Catching Moonlight
by Catiegirl
Summary: History hinges on little things. A proposal averted, a football game that someone was not meant to attend. When Anne and Gilbert begin their junior year, a mishap of Blythe/Shirley proportions threatens to undo everything that the two of them have worked for. The only way to get out of the resulting mess is the same way they got into it- together.
1. Chapter 1, What Fools These Mortals Be

**Sometimes, things don't go according to plan.**

 **This is NOT the third in the One More Day With You Trilogy. I tell you frankly, that story doesn't want to be written right now. And I _know-_ b** **ecause I bloody well tried.**

 **And one day while I was working on some terrible lines that will never appear in ANY story, this idea just made me laugh out loud. Now, to be perfectly honest, I had no plans to ever write a new full-length story on here- I really didn't- but then _Catching Moonlight_ just happened.**

 ** _Catching Moonlight_ is based on a popular trope across Fan Fiction- but it's not done in Anne. It's cheeky to even attempt, and I freely admit that it's a huge risk, but I theorise that you can get away with just about anything if you can only write it well enough. So I wanted to see if I could make this work. I won't tell you which trope it is- trust me, you'll see soon enough.**

 **For all returning and new readers, thank you. Since you trusted me through hurricanes and rocky shores, I hope you can do it with this one. I hope it makes you laugh a lot, and that it touches you a little bit too. Special thanks go to Katherine-with-a-K and HecalledmeCarrots for plentiful encouragement and laughs through the planning stages- I couldn't do this without you.**

 **One final note before we begin- the inspiration for the title of this story comes from Anne herself, in Anne of the Island-**

 ** _"See, it was twilight three minutes ago and now it's moonlight. What a pity we couldn't have caught the moment of transformation. But such moments are never caught, I suppose."_ **

**LMM is never clear just when Anne begins to love Gilbert Blythe. We know exactly when the moment of revelation happens, but it's left to us to decide how it all began. So, I would like to offer you a very different pathway for Anne and Gilbert- may it make you smile like it did me.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **November, 1885**

 **Junior Year, Redmond College**

As the shrill sound of the referee's whistle echoed across the field, Gilbert Blythe swung around easily to jog to the tents, narrowly missing being knocked over by his teammates.

"Eyes off the grandstand, Blythe," Timothy Peterson yelled, turning to smirk at his captain.

Gilbert shoved him off with a grin, unable to prevent himself from turning to look. She was there with Phil and Stella and Priss, accompanied by a gentleman whom Gilbert did not recognise. He saw her red head turn toward him, and he lifted his hand in a slight wave before turning to join his teammates. He pushed himself in through the white flap and was handed a towel and a cup of water, sitting down in a quiet corner to catch his breath.

He was relieved- far too relieved that Anne was there. He'd not been home over the summer- and he'd hoped that she would miss him. And it appeared that she had- she found him on the first day of classes, talking animatedly about the changes to the Debating Club, and the news he had missed from home. His mother had asked her to come for tea before she returned to Kingsport, and had sent along apple preserves in her trunk for the Patty's Place girls- greatly vexing Mrs Lynde, who had already sent several jars ahead of her into Aunt Jimsie's care. Gilbert had watched her sunny expression, almost faint with relief that the odd distance she had been creating between them had dissipated over the summer. He had tried to listen, his own thoughts running riot.

So stepping back from her had been the _right_ thing to do.

Gilbert rubbed his heated face tiredly. He'd been on the verge of speaking- he'd gone to her in late April, determined to end his uncertainty. Instead, he'd found himself thrusting mayflowers into her hands, telling her he wasn't going home for the summer- only to hesitate, and agree to go on some fool hunt for white violets with her. For a fleeting moment, he had seen something in her grey eyes at his nod- a curious fear that was replaced by relief, and a warmth that made him take heart.

Nevertheless, he'd watched over thought and action fiercely since then. For years he'd kept his feelings guarded, and for years he had asked himself if waiting forever was really the best option he could come up with. He'd been sure to write her over the holidays this time, and then lingered over the long, newsy letters she had sent him in return. Telling him tales of Dora and Davy, her concerns about the year to come, and that she missed the girls terribly. She and Diana had gadded about the woods like schoolgirls, and Mrs Barry had scolded the pair of them for not behaving in a manner befitting their age.

 _"And how could I explain it to her, Gil? To say that we were playing at being children because we are only too aware that childhood is long behind us. Diana will marry her Fred in a year, and then I will be only a year away from decisions that will affect my future life. To think of hard and sober work, of legacy, of making the most of the opportunities that we fought for. How could I not want just one more summer of childhood?"_

He sank into a seat against the side of the tent now, accepting the fruit and water the assistant offered him with a nod.

It had been a long summer. Cooped up in the airless city on streets that burned with unrelenting heat, shaking his head as Anne's letters described being caught in a summer storm that had drenched her. He'd chuckled too, with the description of the chill she'd taken, and Mrs Lynde's rather morbid prognosis. He'd read her letters over and over, finding himself wondering again what she could do if she tried to write something other than her high-brow romances. Her letters were extraordinary- clever, and warm and evocative, and whenever he folded one up he would thank God that he'd somehow managed to stay in her world.

There was a soberness in his thoughts then. With the leisure to reflect on it, he now had to ask himself what he had expected to happen that day. A deep flush flooded his cheeks at the picture of what he had hoped would happen. She would blush, look up at him shyly- and then Gilbert frowned. Anne wasn't shy- although she had certainly avoided being alone with him enough of late to give that impression. What was going on with that? He sighed now, his eyes closing. Surely she could see how he felt for her- surely she knew that he loved every hair on her glossy head. He'd been bowled over as a lad of mere fourteen by her, and he didn't see that changing anytime soon.

Reality had hit when he went home alone that night, a white violet in his pocket as a symbol of their success- a white violet with purple streaks in its heart. He flung himself onto his bed as cold, merciless reason flooded him. Two years to finish their arts course. While he'd only imagined escorting her proudly on his arm, his ring on her hand and a smile on her lips, now he saw the glaring hole in his idea. _Three_ more years to finish medical school- assuming he could finance his way through with the scholarship that no one had been able to take in years.

 _Five years._

How did any man have the gall to ask someone to wait five years for him? What was she supposed to do in the meantime? Teach school again? Sit embroidering cushions? Gilbert exhaled, imagining the look of scorn on Anne's face at that suggestion. How on earth had he meant for this to work? The fact was, he thought disgustedly, there wasn't really a plan- it was merely about securing her. A faint nausea hit Gilbert then. He knew perfectly well that it was his fear that made him want to speak now. Fear of losing her to a faceless man who could offer her so much more.

When the whistle blew again, Gilbert snapped back to attention, shelving dangerous thoughts. He pulled the team up with a well-practised shout and stood at the head of the line ready to go out again. As they jogged onto the field he looked up to see Anne and Stella talking animatedly, when she stopped and turned to wave at him cheekily.

He grinned, taking heart as he moved into position again. Plan or no plan, it wasn't over.

He wasn't dead yet.

* * *

Up in the stands, Anne wrapped her scarf around her neck with a shiver. She leaned into Stella once again, her voice loud over the sound of the crowd. "I'm just saying that there are a thousand things I would rather be doing right now."

"Then why aren't you doing any of them?" Stella retorted, her eyes lighting up at the entrance of the other team. She suddenly squealed, clutching Anne's hand. "There he is! Look at him, he's taller than everyone else on the field."

Anne snorted. "And how would your brother feel about you coming just to watch his friend play against Redmond?"

"What my darling brother doesn't know won't hurt him," she said brightly. "James told me that he would keep an eye out for me if he did come- so it's clearly my duty to make it easy for him to see me."

Anne looked down at the big fellow with a smile. "Well, he is quite- robust."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Anne, he's _gorgeous_ \- and gentle as a lamb, too."

Anne couldn't help but tease her. "Stella Maynard! So this whole Arts degree is really just the search for a man? How _cliche_ of you."

Stella's black eyes twinkled, and she pinched Anne's rosy cheek. "Well, there have to be perks to this single university life. Besides- I just heard that Redmond admitted its first married woman this year. They didn't tell anyone though- they were worried about it setting a precedent."

Anne's eyebrows flew up in surprise under her green cap. "Really?"

"Bessie O'Connor- she's in one of my classes."

The red-headed woman shrugged. "Well, that's lovely for her," she said thoughtfully. "I can't imagine how you could do it easily though- what does her husband do?"

Stella tucked her skirts in to prevent them from blowing in the breeze and chuckled. "He's a solicitor- and apparently has to travel a lot. She was terribly lonely and wanted to fill her time productively- and so the faculty agreed to let her come. Her father gives a lot to the college, I believe."

A roar interrupted the conversation, and Anne turned to briefly scan the field. "What happened?"

Phil grabbed Anne's hand from the other side. "You need to pay attention if you don't want to miss anything, Miss Shirley. Gilbert's fine, by the way- it was a glancing blow."

Worried grey eyes darted around, finally finding his curly head as the cluster of people surrounding him thinned. She saw him lift a hand, and smiled slightly, only to be nudged by Phil again. "You were worried."

Anne gave her an exasperated look. "Phil, _everyone_ is worried- look how indignant his fan club is."

Phil turned to look at the group of girls down on the lower steps, and rolled her eyes. "What geese," she muttered. "He's not interested in them."

Anne's voice was tolerably cool. "It wouldn't concern me if he was- although they are hardly going to attract him with that behaviour."

One girl, in particular, caught Phil's attention, a tall blond in the centre of the group who was calling out and waving to the men as they ran by the stands. "Do you know Claire Hallett?"

Anne frowned. "Only in passing."

"Well, she rather has it in for you."

Anne looked at her friend in some surprise. " _Me_? Why? I hardly know her."

Phil leant closer, her brown curls bouncing in the breeze. "She's got her eye on Gilbert- she's in the advanced mathematics courses with us. Her father is someone in the teaching staff. And she was the one you trounced so disgracefully in the debate last year."

Anne's expression was sceptical. "I hardly think that worth holding onto a grudge, Phil."

"You'd be surprised," Phil said dryly, before turning with a devastating smile for the awkward young man beside her, her brown eyes twinkling. "You know, you were awfully brave to escort four young ladies to a college football game, Jonas- with varying degrees of interest in the game, too." At this, she poked Anne.

Phil's young minister friend grinned, moving when Priscilla slipped between Anne and Stella on the bench. "You don't wish to be here, Miss Shirley?"

"Oh, Anne wanted to go for a walk in the park-" Priss commented airily. "As if you don't get enough of that!"

"And I changed my mind after the hour Phil spent persuading me that it was a lovely day for a game," Anne commented, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "How do you enjoy football, Mr Blake?"

His wide smile was boyish, and he pushed his tow-coloured hair back from his eyes. "I used to play a little- never at this level, though."

Anne scanned the field, noting that the game was growing more intense. She was having trouble keeping track of what was going on, and couldn't help smiling- how Davy would adore this. Over the summer she had been quizzed by him on how the colleges did it, only for him to grow frustrated at her vague descriptions. "Girls don't know enough of the game," he had grumbled.

Perhaps she would ask Gilbert to explain it to him instead.

Meanwhile, down on the field, a winded Gilbert picked himself up from the ground for the second time and reached down to pull a teammate up. He cast an eye on the dark clouds above, wiping muddy hands on his shirt. The coach had warned them that the other team was strong, and he could see why- he rubbed his shoulder with a wince; a large fellow had barreled into him, leaving him rather inelegantly sprawled on the grass. He turned as he saw the line swinging to head in his direction again, and for a brief moment, he lifted his eyes at the sound of her laughter in the distance. He had time for a slight smile to cross his face, and then with a sudden impact that seemed to echo through the stadium, everything went black.

* * *

"Gil? Gilbert?"

Consciousness was slow to return, and he shut his eyes against the sharp pain thudding through his head. He groaned and tried to move, only to find himself on a narrow stretcher in the medical tent. He blinked at the afternoon light coming through the flap, a hand coming up to touch his head gingerly.

"Don't- you'll knock the bandage."

Gilbert turned his head at the sound of Anne's subdued voice, wincing at what the movement did to his head. "Anne? What are you doing in here?" he muttered. "Surely they didn't let you-"

Anne stood up, her face unusually pale, blazing green eyes raking over his body. "What were you _thinking_ , participating in this blood sport?"

He tried to sit up, groaning under the effort. "Anne; it's football, not sword fighting."

"Do you have any idea what your mother would do to me if I had to tell her that you got trampled on and killed for a _game_?" Anne said furiously. "Your professors are outside right now asking how your coach could let their star pupil get injured like this. You were knocked out!"

Gilbert held his hand up, causing Anne to nearly choke with indignation. "If you could not yell right now, that would be wonderful. But I do appreciate you worrying about me." This last was slyly added, and Anne's cheeks flushed in anger.

"It isn't _worrying_ so much as trying to talk sense into your addled brain," she grumbled.

He shifted on the bed with a wince. "What happened?"

Anne huffed. "What happened is that Charlie wouldn't find out if you were alright- and I couldn't find anyone else who would check on you. So I came in here to find out why you hadn't been released yet. Why would they leave you alone in here after the accident?"

Gilbert grunted. "It's just as well they did- this wouldn't look good if anyone caught you in the medical tent."

This made the girl scowl. "And what if you have a concussion? Did anyone medical actually _check_ you?"

He gave a dry chuckle. "Well, I don't know, did I? I just woke up. And I meant, what happened to _me_?"

Anne's cheeks were crimson with embarrassment- of _course_ that was what he had meant. "You got ploughed down by a runaway elephant from the other team."

He put his hand to his head again, and Anne frowned as she pulled it away. "You have a cut on there- and Stella thinks he might have stepped on you as well. It's a mercy it wasn't any worse. Gil, aren't you supposed to be able to dodge the other team?"

Gilbert glared at her as best as he was able. "So you'll come and see if I'm alright, but then you'll blame me for not avoiding injury?"

Anne sighed, giving a twisted smile. "I blame you for scaring m- everyone."

"Then I'm sorry about that." He tried to move then, and Anne moved to help him up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, only to give a cry of pain when he leant heavily on one shoulder. "What on earth-" he lifted a shaking hand to tug the collar of the soft jersey he wore, and Anne only prevented her exclamation with a hand over her mouth.

"Gilbert, they need to check that!" she hissed angrily. "You might have broken something- look at the bruising over your shoulder-" She turned away suddenly as Gilbert grimly yanked the neck of the shirt over his head. "What are you _doing_?" she asked, her voice several octaves higher than normal.

"Calm down, I've got a vest on. I can't tell what I've done unless I see the bruising- it's probably just a strain," he said stubbornly, reaching around with a wince to see how far it spread.

The voices outside the tent suddenly grew louder then, and the two of them froze in horror, a startled Anne somewhat hypnotized by the sight of Gilbert's bare arms. His eyes changed then, darkening with foreboding as he heard them approach. "Gilbert, you need to get your shirt on _right now,_ " she gasped.

 _"Then would you give it to me and get out of here?"_

Anne looked down in horror to see that it lay innocently at her feet. She fumbled to pick it up, cursing herself for her impulse to come to the tent, and then several things happened at once. As a voice called from the entrance, Gilbert lunged for the shirt just as Anne straightened up- the resulting collision of heads made her see stars, and she whimpered as she tasted blood on her tongue; Gilbert lurched awkwardly to the floor, and as both parties were still hanging onto the badly abused sweater Anne lost her balance and fell to the ground, collecting Gilbert's injured shoulder squarely. There was a tangle of limbs and language that neither Marilla nor Mrs Blythe would have approved of, and then an awful voice echoed through the small space, halting all movement.

 _"What is the meaning of this?"_

There was an infinitesimal moment when frightened grey eyes met hazel- and both turned to the source of the sound, to greet no less than three of Redmond's academic heads.

Anne scrambled to her feet, her face a ghostly white. "An- an accident, sir-"

Gilbert stood up slowly, tugging the shirt from her hands. "I got off the bed- er- stretcher- before I was ready- Miss Shirley was making sure I was alright."

A pair of cold eyes turned to Anne then, and she realised with a shiver of terror that this was one of the most prominent members of the teaching staff, second only to the dean of the school. "You must know that no female student is allowed near the tents, Miss Shirley."

A glassy-eyed Gilbert turned to see that Anne's colour had returned in a flash, and the look that had landed a slate on his head was on her face. "Sir, Mr Blythe was left unattended with a concussion after the game. He has injuries that were not attended to at all, and there seems to be no one is present who will do so."

"Bumps and bruises are not what concerns me, Miss Shirley," he said coldly. "This is behaviour I would not have expected of my students. You will be in my office at eight in the morning to deal with this. Is that clear?"

"Jerry, there's no need for such dramatics," another voice growled. "Mr Blythe's _fiancee_ has a right to see if he is alright." He pushed past Anne, giving the pair a look of warning. "No law against an engaged couple being concerned for each other, is there?"

" _Sir_ -" Anne choked in shock, and he shot her a warning look.

"Now it was foolish of her to come, I grant you, but women will respond emotionally when those they love are injured," Professor Daniels said gruffly. "Look, Miss Shirley is correct- Mr Blythe needs attending to. I'll take him to the hospital myself, and you can chat with them both in the morning."

Professor Hallett looked at them with suspicion. "Engaged? For how long?"

Gilbert could see that Anne was utterly frozen, and he jumped when Professor Daniels jabbed him from behind. "Two months, sir." He could see Anne's red head turning to him in disbelief, and prayed she would stay silent.

"If I find I am being lied to, I assure you that neither of you will remain in this college another day. Eight o clock. I do not tolerate tardiness."

He swept from the tent then followed by the other gentleman, and Anne's knees shook as she faced Gilbert's grim-faced teacher. " _Why_ \- Professor, _why_?"

The older man turned to her, his look fierce. "Not here. The pair of you, in my office, in ten minutes time."

* * *

Gilbert emerged from the changing rooms, cradling his bag in his uninjured arm, as a nightmarish feeling swept through him. Anne was standing stiffly before the entrance to the teaching offices, her eyes wide and frightened. She flinched when he touched her arm, and he moved away from her carefully. "Anne, it's a misunderstanding. We'll be alright, I promise."

She drew herself up, however, he shook his head, a muscle in his cheeks jumping. "Just- save it for when we get in there. We're going to need all the fire we can get."

Professor Daniels was at his door when the white-faced couple arrived, and Anne stepped inside on stiff legs, almost stumbling when she saw the other gentleman in the room.

"Pp-professor Winston," she said faintly.

He nodded at her as Roger Daniels closed and locked the door behind them. "We don't need any visitors," he said tersely, ignoring the look of dismay that the young couple exchanged. "I thought it wise to consult Emile about you, Miss Shirley. We need to contain this, and fast."

Anne's breathing was shallow, and she lifted her head at this. "Professor, it was an _accident_ -"

"Do you want to know how many students I have lost to 'accidents'?" he said angrily. "It won't matter now that you've been seen together by the Head of Staff."

Anne choked. "Then why would you tell him that we were engaged?"

"To save the two of you from academic suicide," he shot back angrily. "Miss Shirley, Mr Blythe, what were you thinking? Are you aware of what you were risking?"

Gilbert's jaw was set. "Sir, the two of us are old friends, we grew up together- I can attest to Miss Shirley's honour."

"And none of that matters a bit," the older man said bluntly. "The fact is that you were seen- and by Jeremy Hallett, no less. Mr Blythe might survive the scandal- you, Miss Shirley, would not."

Anne's eyes sparked in sudden fury. "And why not, Professor? Why are there different rules for women?"

"If the rules won't stop Anne from being blamed for a mistake that belonged to both of us, then I won't stay either," Gilbert said angrily.

"Then you would both lose your chance to finish your degrees here," Professor Winston said quietly. "Anne, the way the university interprets its own laws isn't up for debate. You won't win by fighting them on this."

Anne rose to her feet, staring at the professor she had idolized. "Then I'll just leave." She turned to Gilbert, her look hard. "I leave, and you can keep fighting this."

"I won't let you do that!" Gilbert snapped, when the professor's voice cut through their argument.

Professor Daniels raked a hand through greying hair and gestured to the seat behind her. "Miss Shirley, I'm sorry, but it's not that simple. You are both recipients of scholarships this year, correct?"

Anne cleared her throat unsteadily. "Yes, sir. The- the Parker prize in Literature."

"And Mr Blythe won the Jacob McAllister award," he said crisply. "By an enormous margin, by the way. If word were to get out about this, and it _will_ , even assuming you both survived tomorrow, both of those would be stripped from you under terms of academic misconduct. You would have read the conditions on your letters."

Anne and Gilbert both nodded silently.

"You would be ineligible for all further prizes including-"

"The Cooper," Gilbert said dully. "That's what this is about, isn't it, Professor? That's why you're getting involved."

Professor Daniels pushed back from the desk in frustration. "Your grades are near perfect, Blythe. You would qualify without trouble- all you would have to do is maintain them for the next year and a half. It hasn't been taken for the past three years. _You_ could have done it easily. But this little episode will put paid to that if we do nothing."

Neither of the older gentlemen missed Anne's hand clutching the wrist that was beside her on the hard sofa. They watched with interest as the girl turned to Gilbert bleakly. "Gil, _medical school-_ "

He shook his head, his voice resigned. "The Cooper was never the only way, Anne."

Professor Winston cleared his throat, and all eyes fell on him. "Anne, losing the scholarships is a blow- but your reputation will take the hardest hit. _Yours_ , not Gilbert's." She bridled at this, however, he raised his hand. "You know what gossip is like in a college like this- and for women, there is no recourse. You would be presumed guilty. This will affect your social standing, your financial standing- your relationships with your peers. Unattached, your expulsion from Redmond is almost certain. Jeremy Hallett won't bend the rules for anyone- and if a college wrote to him about your application in the future, he would tell them everything. Anne, you don't want to throw away the time and effort you have invested here- not when it cost you so much personally to come."

"It cost us both," she said, her eyes glittering. "We _both_ worked for this."

"Anne, you would need to start again to avoid this," he said simply. "At a different college, far from here- and even if you began your degree again, you would still need to list where you had been for the past two years on the application form. An incomplete degree will do you no good out there- how many years of your life could you potentially lose to this misunderstanding?"

Professor Daniels exchanged a look with the other gentleman, and his voice was unusually gentle. "The college doesn't want to lose such promising students- but we will if we don't act now. You have a chance to stay, and to prove them wrong. I suggest that you seriously consider that alternative."

Gilbert's heart broke at the lack of hope on Anne's face, and his jaw tightened as he faced the older men. "All that may be as you say- but help me to understand: how would our being engaged alter the perception of what happened? If it's morally wrong for us to be found as we were, as innocently as it as was, surely an engagement would only mean that we had behaved inappropriately before vows were spoken- how would a betrothal change the outcome for us?"

"It won't," Anne's professor said slowly. "You would need to actually get married."


	2. Chapter 2, The Bend in the Road

**Chapter 2**

It was sunset when Anne and Gilbert arrived at Patty's Place, just hours after the game. Anne looked no better than Gilbert did- although she had agreed that they needed to talk. She turned from the gate, and Gilbert silently followed her into the old orchard that lay behind Patty's Place. Anne instinctively headed for the oldest and darkest of the trees to huddle beneath, hardly seeming to realise that he was still there. He approached her cautiously. She had been remote while Gilbert was attended to by Doctor Edmonds from the hospital- whom Professor Daniels introduced as one of the doctors on the Redmond Medical School board. Gilbert had only nodded stiffly, knowing that Daniels was making a point by bringing him to see the head of the hospital.

He lowered himself to the ground with a groan, and Anne almost rose in apology at the sound.

"I'm sorry, Gil- I- I forgot that you were hurt," she mumbled.

Gilbert gave a sardonic laugh. "Well, we do have bigger things to deal with, don't we?"

He sat against the tree with a heavy sigh, and for long minutes there was silence between them. Surreptitiously, he studied her, his look worried. He'd expected her to fly off the handle at the professors in the office- and yet what had happened was even more frightening. He'd watched the colour recede from her face as she dropped lifelessly into the chair beside him. There she stayed, her grey eyes glassy and terrified. He'd argued on behalf of them both then, but to no avail- eventually, they were told that a decision needed to be made by morning.

When no sound had come from her in some time, Gilbert stared at her in the growing darkness, his face inscrutable. He had to do something.

"You have to admit, this is seriously overdue," he said conversationally, adjusting his sling.

Anne's white face turned slowly to him, and Gilbert saw a flash of something dangerous in her grey eyes.

 _There she is._

He spoke again, his manner detached. "How many times do you think we have been landed in scrapes that the rest of the world would hang us for?"

Anne's mouth dropped open in shock. "This is rather more than a scrape, Gilbert."

"Oh, I know," he answered dryly. "All the same, it makes you think- we practically got away with murder in the old days, didn't we?" Her pointed chin was out, and he felt some relief as he saw her coming back to life again.

"We once arrived at my house dripping wet in front of the entire Avonlea sewing circle," he noted logically. "Then Marilla caught me climbing into your bedroom window, looking for Davy's ball-"

Anne's cheeks flushed in exasperation. "Gilbert, I wasn't even there then."

"Yes, and Marilla knew it too- still, it would have looked bad. And Charlie caught us trying to untangle a fishing hook from the back of your skirts when I took you fishing last summer."

Anne's eyes were smoldering. "So we deserve this? Is that what you are trying to tell me?"

Gilbert swung around to face her now, his look regretful. "You know I don't mean that, Anne. It's- it's just us. I wish both of us had used some common sense- it looked bad, and we're facing consequences that neither of us was looking for- but you and I will always know what really happened. And so will those who care for us."

Anne shivered. "They'll hear about this at home, won't they?"

Gilbert hesitated. "Yes. We'll be lucky if the news doesn't make it home inside a fortnight."

"That's if we don't try to permanently silence Charlie," Anne muttered vindictively, making Gilbert snort.

"Don't think I haven't considered it."

Anne folded her arms, her eyes glittering. "Well, murder aside, there's only one thing to do. I'll leave."

Gilbert's hands clenched, his heart pounding. He'd been waiting for this. "Anne, don't-"

She turned to face him now, her voice hard. "Gilbert, you heard what they said- your reputation is able to survive this. Mine can't. As unfair as that is, it's a reality."

"And what will your leaving prove?" he said heatedly. "That you're the guilty one, and I'm just allowed to continue on, no questions asked?"

"That's the way it _is_ -"

"No!" he shouted, making her blink in shock. "If you think I'll just let you take the fall, Anne, then you don't know me at all."

Anne leant forward and gripped his forearm tightly. "No. This is _strategy_ , Gilbert. Remember? You taught me chess-"

"Anne, this is not a _game_ -"

"-sometimes you need to sacrifice one piece to ensure that the other can accomplish the goal." Gilbert's fear doubled when he felt Anne move closer to him, her voice low. She rarely came so close; and she never spoke this way to him. She was actually planning to go. "It won't work. You know that even now- you're just being stubborn. You give up here, we both fail- I give up, you at least can continue. I'll tell him it was all my fault."

Gilbert bounded to his feet and walked away, his hands coming up to cover his anguished face. She was _wrong_. She couldn't know how he felt for her- she couldn't understand. Else why would she suggest this? He swallowed, the pain in his shoulder only second to the one burning in his chest. "There's got to be something else we can do."

"You know there isn't." She turned to him dully. "I'm sorry, Gilbert- I'm sorry about everything. I would never have wanted to stand between you and you becoming a doctor. I'm sorry that it will be harder now- but I'll go so that it doesn't get any worse. He can't punish you if I take responsibility. You can weather this, Gil- you're strong enough to make it."

"And you can't?"

There was a faint smile on her face. "I told you, I'll live. I just won't be able to do it here. I'll- I'll find a teaching position somewhere until all this dies down."

Gilbert stared at her in horror. "You can't expect me to stay here if you leave because of me."

Anne shook her head. "All this is for nothing if you leave now. Without me here, you have a chance." She felt the prickle behind her eyes then, and blinked hard. "I need to know that you will be fine. I won't be able to live with myself if you aren't."

"And I need to know that you will be," he said hoarsely. "Anne, we've got to try and talk some sense to Hallett in the morning- he's got to understand that it was an accident-"

Anne shook her head. "He won't," she said dully. "It's over."

Gilbert stomped back to her, his face set. " _Fine_. Then you'll just have to go ahead and marry me." At her choked cry, he spoke quickly. "You were in that meeting, same as me. Everything has changed, Anne- but they said if we married, that there was a chance. We wouldn't lose our places, wouldn't have to start over- and you could stay in Kingsport." Anne's eyes were on him then, trying to ascertain if he was serious.

A desperate Gilbert focused on her pale face. "Anne, you know how this plays out. How far will you have to go to run from this? How long would you have to teach to save to go to another college? We have got through with scholarships and sheer will- your university records would be needed to transfer, and if word ever got out-"

"I know!" Anne cried furiously. "I lose my chance to get my BA. I know that. But if it's between me not finishing and both of us not finishing, then I have no choice."

"And I'm telling you that leaving is a bad one for you," he said savagely. "They told us that it was possible to survive it."

"By _lying_?" He paused in his tirade at her deadly calm voice. "By pretending that two exceptionally intelligent but poor college students decided that they were so much in love that they got married without consent from families, or without any regard for their education? What would that prove?"

Gilbert forced himself to relax, and let out a shaking breath. "Anne, honestly, I didn't even expect them to even hear us out today. But they did, and they were trying to help. The university is bound by its own rules, and we are walking a very narrow road to get out of this now."

Anne walked to Gilbert then, desperate hands reaching to grasp his lapels to make him look at her clearly through the darkness. "Gilbert, you would be 'getting out of this' with a _wife_ ," she enunciated slowly and clearly. "You are one of the finest minds in the world- and you are suggesting that the best case scenario is for you to get married halfway through your degree- let alone before _three_ _years_ of medical school. Are you seriously trying to tell me that that is the best solution you can come up with?"

He glared down at her coolly. "If that's the solution that doesn't have you throw away your entire future to save my neck, then yes."

"You have a poor opinion of my ability to survive."

Gilbert gave a mirthless laugh. "Oh, I know you can do it, Anne Shirley. You've got more strength and nerve than anyone I know. But what will it cost? Leaving the girls? Moving far from Marilla and the twins to work? The gossip, the smallness of others- always trying to avoid talking about why you left university here, always knowing that you didn't get to finish- you _love_ it here."

Anne sighed distantly. "I do."

"And what would _I_ do without you?" She looked up at his impassioned face in shock. "Do you have any idea what you mean to me, Anne? If you think I can see you face the consequences alone and just continue on blithely, then you're wrong." He raked a hand through his brown curls and spoke hesitantly. "Look- putting everything else aside for now- would it be so very bad? Marrying now?"

Anne paled, watching the wind scattering damp leaves on the floor of the orchard. She sank down onto the ground, her arms surrounding her bent knees. "Gil, I didn't plan to marry for a long time- if at all," she said softly. "Like you, I wanted more than Avonlea could give me. I'm- I'm not ready for marriage- and I'm not willing to steal the experience of finding that from you. You deserve better."

Gilbert's voice was faint, as he tried to process her words. "So you never thought about marrying? Not at all?"

Anne's look was distant. "I had my ideals, I suppose. Percival had to come from somewhere, didn't he? Someone tall, melancholy and inscrutable- who spoke in poetry, and would brood darkly- he wouldn't know about my temper or the necessities or hurts of life." He voice was low, and something in his heart broke a little with her soft words. "So many of my ideals have fallen, Gil. I was determined that this one wouldn't. But he doesn't exist- that's why I wrote him. I know that. And if he did, the point would come when I would have to tell him who I really am- where I'd been- including what happened to drive me away from Redmond." A tear fell down her cheek, and her voice was broken. "I've ruined everything."

Like an old man, Gilbert sat down beside her silently. His heart clenched as she rested her head against his shoulder, her slim body trembling. He cleared his throat as he put an arm around her, and tried to smile.

"Come on, we can do this, Carrots," he said thickly. "We'll try to convince them in the morning. Alright?"

She tipped her head up in the light of the moon, tears falling down her face. "I would do it, Gil," she said shakily. "If I could take this away from you I _would_ \- there's no one I care about as I do you. But you and I deserve to be able to choose- and to not be stuck together just because we had to." She could see the reserved look on his face, and her voice tightened. "When I was a child I was shunted about from house to house with no consent. I never had a choice. I ended up at Green Gables by default- you _know_ that- and if Marilla hadn't wanted me, then I would have gone to live with Matilda Blewitt. And I couldn't have done anything about it," she said with a desperation that hurt his soul, and he bowed his head in defeat. "I _know_ that I couldn't do it again."

Gilbert raised a hand to roughly wipe his eyes. He drew in a deep breath, and his arm around her tightened. "I- I wouldn't ever want to take that from you. But I won't lie- I don't want to lose you, either. I want it all- Redmond- and you. I want- I want you to choose _me_."

Anne gave him a bewildered look. "Gilbert, don't you want to find love? Someone beautiful who won't let you down, won't make you angry-"

Gilbert made a disgusted sound. "Now what would I want a wife like that for?"

She couldn't stop herself from smiling, then. "You and I are _friends_ , Gil."

"You're my _best_ friend."

Anne paused in shock. "Don't be silly, Gil- Fred- Stuart? Even Charlie?"

"Anne, be serious- none of them holds a candle to you," Gilbert said brusquely. "I don't understand it myself- you and I just fit together. You can feel that, can't you? What we have is unique. When anything happens in my life, you're always the first one I want to talk to. So when I think about trying to get through all this in one piece, the rumours, the battle to stay here, telling family and dealing with everyone's opinions- I'd rather do it with you. My parents are best friends- there's nothing they don't tell each other."

Anne looked at him, bewildered. "And you would settle for that?"

He laughed slightly, then. "Anne, nothing you or I do would _ever_ be considered settling. We don't have it in us to do it. And marriages of convenience used to be fairly common-"

"And your mother always worried that one of the Avonlea misses would stop you from coming to college by doing something foolish," Anne fired back. "You _know_ how much she wanted an education for you. How do you think she would feel now?"

Gilbert grimaced. "Honestly, I think she'll ask what took me so long." He watched her face pale, and sighed. "Anne, my parents adore you- that's no reason not to do this." He sighed, rolling his injured shoulder with a wince. "Anne, I would never force you into anything. And if we had no feelings for each other I wouldn't even suggest this. But we have friendship, respect- admiration, similar goals, the same worldview- we care about each other- and we are both immensely good looking."

At this Anne choked, turning to see the slight grin on his face. "Well, if anyone could make me laugh about it, it's you," she commented. She echoed his sigh, and for a moment there was no sound but the wind in the firs. "Everything has changed now, hasn't it?" she whispered.

He met her eyes honestly. "Yes. If you decide no- I- I will accept that, even if it breaks my heart to see you go," he said quietly. "But before you do, please tell me you will consider it."

The fight was evident in Anne's eyes, and she frowned. "It wouldn't work. We would be living together."

"Agreed."

"No space, no privacy from each other-"

"I think we are both capable of being mindful of each other's feelings-"

"We would fight, misunderstand each other, you would see what _this_ -" here she brandished a red curl fiercely at the boy who had once teased her- "-looks like in the morning-"

He shrugged. "Yes, and-?"

Anne sighed, exasperated. " _Marriage_ , Gilbert- for better or worse, forsaking all others, Gilbert, _children_ , for heaven's sake!"

" _And_ mutual society," he said mulishly. "I know the vows. And we- we wouldn't be doing that- not yet, anyway." At the bright flash of colour on her cheeks, he sighed. "Look, finishing college first would have to be part of the deal. If we- if we were to do that, the odds are that neither one of us would get to finish."

Anne glared at him then. "You couldn't become a doctor if you didn't complete this degree."

Gilbert exhaled, slumping back against the tree. "Anne, that was never a certainty-"

"It was what you were working toward!"

He shrugged, his elbows resting on his knees. "Yes. But like you said- things have changed. And it doesn't follow that it would be worse." He saw the anger building on her face and turned to face her squarely. "I'm not giving up. I plan to finish out this degree, and to see what the future holds after it." His eyes were on the distant horizon, and he chose his next words with great care. "If I was doing that by your side as your husband, knowing that my best friend would graduate with me instead of being halfway across the country, then I'd be _happy_. We have eighteen months until we finish college. That's more than enough time to figure out what we want- and when it's time to make decisions for our future, we can do that- we can do all of that- er, it- then." He flushed at the unintended slip, and to his surprise, Anne began to laugh nervously.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be impolite," she said, her cheeks hot. "It's just hard to imagine us like that."

"It's not that hard," he said, his voice gentle. He took her hand in his then. "It comes down to you, Anne. I think we could do this. I don't want you going off on your own, trying to live with a mess that we both made. Don't think that I don't understand what you would be giving up." His voice was husky, and her grey eyes were fixed on his. "You wanted love, you wanted romance. If you choose this- if you choose _me_ \- I will chase after those things with everything in me. You deserve no less."

The silence between them was longer this time, and when he looked down at her, it was to see a tear falling down her cheek, and she shook her head as she repressed a sob. "I'm not ready for this, Gil. I'm not ready to be married. I don't- I'm not-" she broke off, almost incoherently.

Gilbert could only nod, his jaw clamped against the flood of grief that hit him at her words. He was silent as he pulled her into his arms, comforted slightly by the way she nestled under his chin. The two of them sat unmoving for some time in the old orchard together, until they heard the clock in the distant lounge room chime nine o clock. Gilbert pulled away from her with a gentle look, and helped her to her feet with his good arm.

"We'd better get some sleep." His hazel eyes were on her own, and Anne flinched at the pain on his face. "When will you tell the others?"

"I'm best to do it now. I- I need to start making plans," she said shakily.

Gilbert tried to breathe, his chest constricting. "Will you promise to write to me?"

"If you write back." She tried to smile, her brow creased in hurt. "Gilbert, I need you to tell me that you forgive me for today- I shouldn't have gone to you- I was wrong- I _know_ that you are angry-"

His brow creased in hurt, and he stroked a finger down her cheek, a gesture that she would never have allowed him, once. "Alright, I am, a little," he said softly. "But I understand why you did it." His smile twisted painfully. "If it was you who was hurt, I'd have knocked down buildings trying to get to you."

Anne gave a choked laugh. "Then you would be as foolish as me."

His face crumpled then, and he drew Anne into his arms tightly. He'd dreamt of holding her like this for so long. Of what it would be like to feel her body against his, wanting him, and only him. Now, on this night that might be their last, he cradled her head to his chest, the other wrapped around her slim waist. He turned his face to press a kiss into her red hair, and released her, his lips quivering. He nodded, and attempted to meet her eyes. "I'll be here to pick you up at seven in the morning. We'll go there together, alright?"

At her nod he closed his eyes sickly and turned, wanting to forget the look of pain on her face. A minute later the gate to Patty's Place clanged shut behind him, and he set his jaw as he strode up Spofford Avenue.

He'd known it. She wasn't ready- and she'd seen a life without him.

Gilbert shoved his hands into his pockets, hardly seeing the streets through eyes that would keep blurring with tears. He _knew_ that she cared. He knew that she loved him- and he might never have another chance with her if she left. Could he do it? Could he let her go, knowing the gossip and slander that would follow them both? Each word would pierce him like a knife- and she would be gone.

The late November fog drifted in from the harbour as Gilbert walked on doggedly, hardly noticing the soreness of his body in the cold. This was what a Blythe was meant to do. He was to tread the path before him unflinchingly- his pa had impressed that on him between great, hacking coughs that shook his frail frame.

Gilbert tugged the sling off his arm roughly as he walked. He _would_ do this. For her sake he had to release her- if he needed to hold onto her by coercion, she would never truly be his. That would be worse than what they were facing now.

Gilbert turned onto the street that led to his boarding house. Redmond's dark buildings now lay between him and his bedroom, and he found himself scowling at the silhouette of the bell tower in the distance. He wouldn't lie to himself- the blame for the situation rested squarely on both of their shoulders. Still, the _least_ understanding- the smallest amount of questioning could have led Professor Hallett to a different conclusion.

Gilbert set his teeth, turning toward home. He needed to get warm, he needed sleep. Then he would figure out what to do.

Well, scholarship or not, he wasn't done yet. He was not yet willing to concede defeat, neither was he willing to acknowledge that his time with Anne was coming to an end.

All he could do was to pray for a miracle.


	3. Chapter 3, The Lady Doth Protest

**Chapter 3**

It was late when Anne crept into her blue room and huddled on her window seat miserably. She cringed, thinking of the weeks to come- of Marilla's disappointed face, of Josie's scorn- the ridicule of classmates, and the thought of Gilbert battling all of it alone. She bent her face to her knees and cried then, over and over reliving the decision to not go home with the others that day. So caught in her misery, Anne did not hear her bedroom door open and close, and subsequently jumped when Phil's arms came around her.

"Honey, what is it? We missed you after the game- did you and Gilbert have plans that we didn't know about?"

At this, the storm of sobs suddenly seemed to increase, and a startled Phil shook Anne gently. "Anne, what is it? What happened?" She suddenly froze, her eyes widening. "Anne, tell me you haven't gone and refused Gilbert Blythe now?"

Anne's head flew up in horror, and she grabbed Phil's wrist in a panic. "Why? What did you hear?"

Phil pushed back a honey-brown curl behind her ear, utterly mystified. "Anne, I heard _you_ \- you were crying- because my bedroom shares a wall with you. I only surmised that it was because of Gilbert."

The flood of tears that came on now was beyond anything Phil had ever witnessed in Anne. Keeping her concern hidden, she used the no-nonsense manner that had made her the bane of her childhood nannies. "Anne Shirley, whatever it is that you've done, pull yourself together!" she scolded. "For goodness sakes, you are a Redmond student, not some blubbering mess." At the blaze of indignation that flared in Anne's swollen eyes, Phil sighed in relief. "That's better- I thought I'd lost you. Anne, you're frightening me."

Anne sat up then, rubbing her exhausted face. "Phil, it's not what you think," she said thickly.

Phil took the washcloth from Anne's stand, dipping it in the cool water jug and handing it to Anne to wash her face. "You don't know _what_ I'm thinking- but you'd better tell me what has happened."

When she had regained her breath, Anne closed her eyes, leaning against the cool window frame. Exhausted, she began to relate the story, from the moment she had walked away from Phil and the others after the game, until the present moment.

Phil appeared frozen, and Anne watched her with eyes too tired to blink. Almost as if in a dream, Phil got up and walked out of the room without a word, and a fresh batch of tears began to flow from the distraught girl. Phil, Stella, Priscilla and Aunt Jimsie were her family- they had been together for over a year now: if they couldn't accept this, then who would?

Some minutes later, Anne looked up at the sound of footsteps to see Phil with a bewildered Priscilla and Stella in tow.

"Honey, you need to tell them what you just told me," Phil said firmly. "You're going to need us all right now."

* * *

A short time later, the girls were in nightgowns and robes, and Phil tended to the fire in the lounge room while they waited for the others. Anne sat in the squashy chair with a blanket wrapped around her, her pale face staring into the fire restlessly. She had found herself being marched downstairs when Stella discovered that she hadn't eaten since before the game, and the girls now sat down to talk through the issue with their tea before them.

Anne quietly recounted the conversation that had taken place in the orchard, and for a time there was silence in the room, while the others exchanged uneasy glances.

Phil cleared her throat then. "Alright. So Gilbert wants you to stay."

Anne shivered. "Yes." She lay her head back on the chair, her grey eyes stormy. "He thinks that we should get married like Professor Daniels suggested." The girls were silent, and she clenched her teeth. "We are halfway through college- neither of us is well off, and he would be shackled to me for all time, for a mistake that _I_ made."

Phil's eyebrows were raised, and she nodded doubtfully. " _Ye-eees,_ although him being shirtless certainly made circumstances a lot more sinister, I think."

Anne's eyes flashed and she tugged the blanket higher. "If I hadn't gone there, then it wouldn't have happened."

Priscilla put down her tea with a soft sigh. "Anne, why _did_ you go? You might have known that they would care for Gilbert adequately."

"They _didn't_!" Anne said, her voice sharp. "He was left alone with a concussion- and I have never in my life seen bruising like he has now." She closed her eyes then, her regret palpable. "I- I didn't think. It was foolish."

Stella harrumphed. "Well, so was him taking off his shirt in front of a girl. What on earth was he thinking?"

"Oh, probably that he's done it in front of me before," Anne mumbled, shocking the others into silence. She looked up to see all three of them staring at her with open mouths, and her cheeks flushed. "It was- nothing. He fell from a tree once. His mother was checking him for broken bones- we were studying together."

Priscilla closed her mouth, after giving Stella an expressive glance. "I see," was all she said.

"Be that as it may, it's happened now," Phil stated. "We just need to figure out what you're going to do."

Anne groaned. "Phil, I've already been through this with Gilbert. There's nothing we _can_ do."

Priscilla's look was gentle. "Well, I'm with Gilbert, sweetie. There _is_ something- and to be quite honest, I think you should do it."

Anne's cry was choked. "Priss, you can't be serious-"

"Oh, but I can. _Two years_ , Anne," the flaxen-haired girl insisted. "Two years of teaching to earn enough to come here- two years worth of college behind you, and a scholarship that covered most of this year's tuition. You can't just walk away from that."

"Why does everyone seem to think that marriage is the only way?" Anne stormed.

"Well, we wouldn't, ordinarily," Stella said calmly. "In fact, if it wasn't Gilbert, I'd tell you to go and to leave this mess behind you. It's archaic, but I've had Professor Hallett for over a year in Philosophy- he's a stickler for propriety. He won't bend. At least three co-eds have been dismissed by him for similar matters since we've been here- he's made it quite plain that he doesn't like having women in the classroom."

Priscilla handed a teacup to a shivering Anne, her lovely face frowning. "Why ever not?"

"He believes that we interfere with the discipline of the place," Stella answered with a shrug. "He wanted his daughter to attend a college in Montreal, apparently- strictly a ladies college. He lost the vote though, and when Claire was old enough, she came here, just like her brothers. Madison Crowley knows her well- she's in his class with me."

There was silence for a time, and Rusty leapt onto the arm of Anne's chair. She settled him on her lap, bleakly wondering what he would do when she was gone. Where would she go? What plans could she possibly make so far into the school year?

Stella was frowning now. "What I don't understand is why Daniels is getting involved. What could he possibly gain from it? You aren't his student."

Phil's brown eyebrow rose, and she lowered her voice, despite the fact that only the girls were at home. "Because he promised the faculty a Cooper Prize winner."

Anne's head flew up, and green eyes scorched. "Gilbert mentioned that- it's to medical school, isn't it?"

"Exactly. You said it yourself- no perfect record, no scholarship."

Anne exhaled angrily. "So he stepped in to ensure Gilbert would still be able to try for it, no matter what situation it put us in?"

"Anne, don't read it like that. He was saving you out of a situation you and Gilbert put yourselves in. Of _course_ he has ulterior motives- he's hardly a fairy godmother. The Cooper prize hasn't been taken in years- and the benefactors will give the money to another college if no one at Redmond can take it. He's had to beg to let them hold onto it for another few years."

Stella tipped her head at Phil. "How do _you_ know about that?"

Phil was calm. "Because they wanted me to try out for it as well." The room erupted with exclamations then, and Phil shrugged. "I'm only second to Gilbert by a small margin- and the highest subject weighted is mathematics, isn't it? Daniels wanted more candidates- and he tried to talk me into giving Gilbert some competition next year."

Anne's grey eyes were enormous. "Would you consider going for it?"

Phil snorted. "Honey, be serious. My mother had a hard time with me coming to Redmond for four years- imagine what would happen if I told her I was interested in staying for another three to go to medical school, of all things? That's not me. They don't think I would win, by the way- and you wouldn't believe the work involved. Gilbert, however, is quite likely to make it."

Anne's brow lowered. "Then why didn't he just intervene for Gilbert? Why lump me in as well?"

"Because he knew what he was doing. Hallett will be out for blood- and anyone can see that they don't get on well," Phil said flatly. "He accused Daniels of marking his daughter down in our first year- and he was very suspicious of my marks, I can assure you. Wheels within wheels, and all that."

Anne rubbed her face tiredly. " Good grief. Who knew the mathematics department was so riddled with drama?"

"Those who can do geometry, of course."

Phil's cheeky comment earned a petulant look from Anne, however, she couldn't help but smile as the brown haired girl came over to hug Anne tightly, followed by Stella and Priscilla. She bit her lip to hold back the tears as they comforted her, thankful for their presence.

"I promise, we'll get you through this, sweetie," Priscilla said, slightly muffled by the tangle of arms surrounding them.

Stella nodded, perching on the other arm of the chair. "And whatever you decide to do, we'll support you. But don't make this decision hastily, Anne." She looked up into the serious, dark eyes of her friend. "You and Gilbert are each formidable on your own- and I can't help but wonder what you could accomplish together."

* * *

Later that night, after the discussion had begun to go into circles and Anne declared herself too exhausted to think any longer, Phil saw Anne to her room and tucked into her bed. She surprised her then, by sitting down, smoothing the apple leaf quilt under her hand.

"Thank you, Phil," Anne said quietly.

"Don't thank me. I've done nothing yet."

Anne's lip twitched against her will. "Just what do you expect to do?"

"We'll see," Phil said cryptically. "Here is what I don't understand. I think that there is a part of you that wants this." She saw the anger flare in Anne's eyes and sighed. "Not _that_ , you goose. I meant- Gilbert's offer."

"I don't ' _want_ ' him," Anne said petulantly. "I want us to be able to continue as we are. I want him to live a long, successful life, to find someone who loves him as he deserves- and he doesn't deserve _this_."

Phil sighed. "Give me some credit, Anne. I know that there is a part of you that is tempted to do this, right here, right now. And I imagine that terrifies you."

"Then why would I do it?"

Phil knelt down by Anne's bed, her brown curls tucked behind one ear. "I know you don't like people telling you what to do- and I understand that."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Phil, who has ever bossed you around?"

"Honey, if I wasn't here, my mother would have chosen my husband by now. Daddy told me that he couldn't hold her off forever- which is why he suggested I go to college."

"And how would you have liked someone arranging your marriage?"

Her brown eyes twinkled. "Not at all. But this is not the same situation."

"I know _that_ ," Anne grumbled. "It's not enough to fight it for the principle?"

"No," Phil said baldly. "It's not. The girls and I can see that. This is not a silly suggestion, in view of what is at stake. And the thing that makes it all very real is Gilbert himself. Anne, you come alive when he is nearby- and he does you. Now you either need to make a life completely without him, or you need to make him a part of your own. It's not about whether you think you love him or not- it's not even about what you would do if this situation hadn't happened. It _has_. You don't want to be without him, and you don't want to leave. The solution is simple."

Anne flung herself out of bed impatiently, her flannel nightgown billowing around her. "It is _anything_ but simple, Phil! This isn't for the next eighteen months- he would be my _husband_ , Phil! He would eventually be the father of my children- the complications are unending. For us to continue to study, neither of us would be working- and both of us are equally poor," Anne said bluntly.

"The finances are not the problem," the brown-eyed mathematician said practically, stopping Anne in her tracks. "Think about it- you both pay rent and board- you would just be doing that together, with only one amount of rent to pay. You would share expenses. we've run this house for a year now- and you and Gilbert are more than able to do that together. You both earn your way through college anyway- you could even work through the summer like you had intended to. You know that Gilbert works hard and that he is as determined to finish as you are- although to be honest, I think he will leave Redmond if you do."

Anne choked, her eyes filling with angry tears. "Then he is foolish."

Phil shook her head, her look sad. "Anne, if they take away his scholarships like they will yours, won't he have to?"

Anne froze, her eyes enormous. "But if I asked them-" she faltered.

Phil sighed. "Anne, you are in this situation because the faculty won't bend. Do you really think they are obligated to listen to you?"

"I thought if I left that he would be fine," she muttered miserably. "Phil, he wants to be a doctor-"

"And he still could, if he has the chance to finish." Phil's look was kind. "Your fortunes are tied together, honey. And to be truthful, I think they have been since you hit him with that slate in school."

Anne's eyes filled with angry tears, and she shook her head. "Gilbert deserves better than this. Phil, he didn't even get angry tonight- and he held me so tightly. I felt _safe_ ," she said brokenly. "But I can't marry him without love."

Phil stood up to face her, her brown eyes fierce. "Anne, that _is_ love," she snapped. "I know you don't want to hear it, but if I cared for someone the way you do for Gil, then I would have my children's names picked out already."

Anne folded her arms, her eyes glittering. "What about Jo?"

"Simon and Olivia Blake," Phil said coolly. "As it happens, I _do_ care for him as you do Gilbert."

Anne stilled herself. "I'm- I'm happy for you, Phil."

Phil pulled Anne to sit beside her on the bed. "I know you are. And I know that you wanted that to happen for you too- to meet someone new, and to be swept off your feet- but what if love doesn't always begin the way you think it does? Can you think of anyone better than Gilbert to make a home with- to live with, and work, and study and laugh with?"

Anne stopped, for the first time faintly uncertain. "No. I never did." Phil's jaw dropped at the unexpectedly honest answer, and Anne was furious at herself for blushing. "I- I have a house in my dreams," she admitted feebly. "I can't help but picture it. And for some reason, Gilbert Blythe is always there in the background."

Phil's lip twitched, and a dimple appeared on her cheek. "And what is he doing there?"

The redhead gave a wry smile. "Oh, the usual. Hanging pictures, planning gardens- cooking and reading with me. Hardly the stuff of romance novels."

Phil studied Anne curiously. "Interesting. Why would _you_ , Anne Shirley, dream of a home that doesn't involve romance?"

Anne cleared her throat, her cheeks a dull red. "It's just a fleeting imagination, Phil- it doesn't necessarily make sense. But if you must know, someone romantic was there too- a poet, someone properly melancholy and brooding."

"Just the type who would bore you to tears after a time, honey."

Anne scowled at her. "How would you know that?"

"Because otherwise, why would Gilbert be there?" Phil said unanswerably. "It's your imagination. You need more than a Byronic hero, Anne. I wonder if what you really need is something you don't yet recognise in Gilbert." Phil suddenly laughed at herself. "Goodness. Wouldn't Professor Wiseman be proud of me? Using his psychology lectures after all." She turned to Anne, who was studiously studying her fingernails, and she sighed. "So Gilbert Blythe was there in your dream house- setting up the house and arranging pictures."

Anne frowned. "Well- yes."

"And you were laughing and talking and working together; you admit that he's one of the best men on God's green earth, and yet he's not the man you imagine yourself falling in love with."

There was a pause then. "No."

Phil rubbed her face with a groan. "I'm getting a headache," she mumbled. She got to her feet and turned to Anne frankly. "Anne, be honest with me- are you refusing him because everyone thinks you should be with him? They do, by the way."

Anne shot up in bed with an indignant look. "Well, it certainly doesn't help matters! Do people have no imagination at all?"

Her friend sighed, leaning against the end of her bed. "We don't need imagination, sweetie. All we need to see is the two of you together. It's chemistry. It's why half the girls at Redmond hate you: you have a hold over Gilbert that they can't break."

"I don't _want_ to hold him!"

Phil bent over to look her in the eyes. "Anne, you get jealous when any of the girls just _look_ at him. You even did it to me when we first met. Oh, not that Gilbert could tell- but _I_ can. And it's not wrong to feel that way, either." She sighed, and her brown eyes were regretful. "I'm sorry, honey. If this hadn't happened I would simply leave it to you to sort out in your own time. But I'm afraid you need to make a decision now." Anne was silent now, her face stricken, and Phil stood up with a groan. "I don't want you to leave. Not like this. It would be an admission of guilt to the faculty- and both you and Gilbert will be penalised far beyond what an incident like this deserves. I don't want to see you give up college, Anne- and frankly, it will hurt the girls and I terribly to have you leave Kingsport. We're your family." Anne's eyes were swimming at this point, and she gave a faint hiccup. Phil spoke slowly. "I think you need Gilbert. I think you might even love him. Now, you may not agree with me yet- but even you need to admit that it is the smarter option to stay- and I don't believe there is anyone better suited to you than he is. Just- _think_ about it."

Phil bent down to kiss Anne's pale cheek and closed the door softly behind her, leaving a white and shaken girl behind her.

* * *

The clock had just chimed three as Anne lay shivering in bed, unable to sleep, and unable to get warm. As she lay in the dark, she tried to wrap the quilt around her tighter. She closed her eyes as the tormenting voice of the Presbyterian minister echoed through her mind, looking down on his errant flock in judgment.

 _If two lie together, then they have heat._

Anne burrowing into her pillow crossly, her cheeks indeed heating. What on earth made her think about that obscure scripture now? She had been perfectly warm in her blue room before this- although she now found herself absently wondering what Gilbert was doing on the other side of Kingsport. She didn't know what his boarding house was like. Brown, he had once said- but perhaps she was being ridiculous. Perhaps he was not cold at all. Was he still trying to think of a way out, a way to keep them both here? Was he awake even now? Blaming her, angry at her- yet he had offered his hand. For just a moment, Anne ceased her squirming, her worried eyes on the dark ceiling above her. If she was to be honest, she suspected another reason why he had done so- and it was the real reason she had said no.

Somehow, that evening under the birch trees at Miss Lavender's wedding, somehow she had stumbled upon a thought that was as terrifying as it was true- Gilbert cared for her. _Nothing_ had been the same since that day- under every moment they had spent together, there was an awareness of something inside that felt as if it was awakening against her will- and that _he_ wanted it to happen. A hot, bitter tear slipped down her cooling cheek, then. Why must change happen? Didn't he value what they already had? Why couldn't he let them stay the way they had been?

When Anne had finally turned off the lamp and lay in darkness, the road before her had been resolutely straight. She had clutched Mrs Lynde's handiwork under shaking hands, her principles holding her steady. It would hurt. There would be pain. She would miss the girls- she would miss the electric atmosphere of intelligent minds at work.

A pang shot through her then, one that left her stunned at its sharpness.

She would miss _him_.

Gilbert, who had worked so hard alongside her to be here. The jokes that no one else could understand- the rivalry that had never diminished in intensity, although the bitterness had long since faded. She saw him leaning back on his chair in the library, teasing her and pushing the unruly curls back from his forehead, his sleeves rolled up in a way that made the staid librarian frown darkly.

They- they would write. Over the past summer, Gilbert had shown himself to be an interesting correspondent- intelligent and frank, with a humour that had made her burst into laughter at the breakfast table once- greatly disturbing Mrs Lynde, and making Davy ask Anne what the joke had been. She, in turn, had written pages and pages to him about anything and nothing. Suddenly, Anne froze, unable to picture doing it now. How could she write? When he would be in Kingsport battling to survive, and she- where would _she_ be? Alone- and eating her heart out for her own people.

Missing _him_.

And Anne pictured it vividly. She tossed and turned through the long, cold night, and shortly before dawn, she drifted off to sleep with a frown on her face, the voice of the reverend sounding in her mind.

 _But how can one be warm alone?_

* * *

When the dull morning light rose over Patty's Place, an exhausted Gilbert opened the gate and walked up the steps slowly. To his surprise, the door opened immediately- and a fully dressed Anne walked out only to close the door behind her. He halted, looking at the odd spot of colour on each pale cheek. There was no greeting, no sign that their conversation from the previous night had been interrupted.

"You're early," she said softly.

Gilbert nodded, a muscle in his cheek jumping. "I thought it best."

Anne took another step toward him, studying his face, and he wondered what she was searching for. There was a painful silence before Anne spoke.

"Did you mean what you said?"

Gilbert blinked at her. "Yesterday? Which part?"

"The part where you said that you would be willing to marry me."

Gilbert's breath left him in a rush, and he clutched the wooden post in disbelief. "Yes."

Anne drew in a shaking breath, and there was something unknown in her expression. "I don't want to go. I don't want to give up on our dream, and I don't want you to miss out on yours. But somehow, it was the thought of writing to you that hurt me the most."

Gilbert's brows lowered in confusion. "Writing to _me_?"

"You and I shouldn't have to write to know how the other is doing." She made no move to approach him and licked her lips nervously. "We should know- because we should be here together. And someone needs to make sure you survive football season," she said lightly. "It may as well be your wife."

Gilbert stepped toward her, frowning. "So what you said last night-"

"I did mean it, Gil," Anne said carefully. "We shouldn't be forced into this. And if I thought we would be unhappy together I would leave, no matter what the consequences were for our schooling." His nearness was unsettling her, and unable to meet his eyes, she studied the hands that clenched and unclenched before her, and her voice was so soft that he had to lean in to listen. "I may not be ready for this- but then I was forced to imagine my world without you."

Gilbert's voice was husky, both hope and fear warring in his chest. "And- ?"

She swallowed, forced now to admit a frightening truth. "And I find that I am even less prepared for that."

He reached for her hand, unexpectedly warm without gloves on the cold morning, and she cleared her throat. "Do you really think we could make this work?"

Seemingly struck dumb with shock, Gilbert finally nodded. "I think so." He exhaled then, pulling his hand away to rub his tired face. "You know that we won't escape the gossip. Everyone will think that we-"

"I know, I know-" Anne said hurriedly, her cheeks flushing. "But they will think that anyway if I go. I know that we have an uphill battle just getting through today- but if there is a way where you and I don't have to do this alone- then, if you were willing-"

Unable to contain himself any longer, Gilbert pulled her into his arms tightly, his heart thundering. "Of course I'm willing, Anne. But I need to know that you're sure- it's not like you could change your mind afterwards."

Anne's clear grey eyes were on him, and she shrugged as she studied him. "Gilbert, nothing in my life has ever gone according to plan- and something good has always come out of the unexpected. I'm going to take that as a good omen."

Gilbert then pulled away from her deliberately, cradling his sore arm as he dropped down to an awkward kneel on one knee.

"Gilbert, what on earth are you doing?" Anne said, bending down in bewilderment. "That can't be good for you down there."

He grinned, wincing at a particularly sharp throb from his shoulder. "I don't care. We're not being cheated out of this bit."

She watched in surprise as he took her hand in his, not seeing Phil and Priscilla peeking out of the living room windows and then grabbing onto each other in shock at the sight of the pair. Stella elbowed her way through to stare out the window, all three girls determined to witness this piece of history in the making.

Gilbert's hazel eyes twinkled at the girl he loved, and he mirrored her smile. "Anne Shirley, will you marry me at your earliest possible convenience?"

She laughed then. "I thought we had already agreed on that."

"Humour me."

Anne's cheeks were pink, and she chuckled. "Fine, then, Gilbert. Yes. Now, for pity's sake, get up- it's freezing down there."

She helped him to his feet carefully, and before she could step away, he bent to kiss her flushed cheek, beaming. "Right. So we're getting married." He grabbed her arm then, wide-eyed. "Anne- you and I are getting _married_ -" He chuckled dryly. "And if we are going to pull this off, then it had better be soon."

"Yes. It can't wait till we're home at Christmas," she said reluctantly. She stilled then, and Gilbert accurately guessed the direction of her thoughts.

"We'll tell them everything. It's going to be alright."

Anne then looked up at him, her grey-green eyes sparkling. "Gil, I don't think Professor Hallett has any intention of making this easy for us. I believe he expects us to quit."

Gilbert studied her face and nodded. "I thought that too. But in eighteen months time, come what may, he is going to have to sign our diplomas, and admit that he was wrong about us."

"Oh, I don't plan on making this easy for him either," Anne said candidly, and he smirked at the wicked gleam in her eyes.

He gave her the grin that she knew best from their schooldays and took her hand in his own. "Come on then, future-Mrs-Blythe. Let's go give him hell."


	4. Chapter 4, Once More unto the Breach

**Chapter 4**

It was ten minutes to eight when Professor Hallett strode into the administration building and pulled up short at the couple waiting in the chairs before his office. They were talking together quietly, and he scowled. His official robes were in his office- he'd planned on being behind his desk, his more casual Sunday attire well hidden by the time the shameless pair arrived- he hadn't banked on them being early.

"Miss Shirley, Mr Blythe," he said, with a bite in his voice. He then strode into his office and shut the door behind him, leaving the pair outside for the moment.

"Well," Gilbert said brightly. "So he didn't mellow overnight then."

His future wife snorted. "You didn't really expect him to, did you?"

" _You_ mellowed."

He jumped as her open hand connected with his leg, and he grinned. "I hoped," he said with a shrug. "Milk of human kindness and all that." He had no chance to say anything else before the door opened, and the black-gowned professor stared at them with cold eyes until the pair rose silently to walk into his office.

Anne sat down on the hard chair that was indicated, seeing with amusement that his own desk sat on a dais, placing visitors beneath him. Gilbert settled in his with a definite wink, and then looked back at Professor Hallett courteously.

"So," the older man said, his eyes shrewd. "I trust you have had time to consider the error of your ways."

Gilbert's fist clenched on his lap, however, he showed no outward sign of distress. "We apologise for the impulsiveness of our actions, sir. However, I can assure you that you are mistaken if you assume our relationship is improper."

The gentleman gave an incredulous laugh. "After what I saw, your explanation assumes that I am either naive, or you greatly overestimate your powers of persuasion. I see no evidence otherwise."

"Sir, Professor Daniels told you that we were engaged," Anne said carefully. "Is it so out of character to show concern for my future husband after an accident?"

The professor seemed to have been waiting for this. "A _small_ incident, Miss Shirley- what sort of clinging female comes running at a mere scratch?"

"Professor, I have a fellow's boot-print across my shoulder," Gilbert said pleasantly, willing Anne to remain silent at the attack. "Not to mention that the medic on the field showed gross negligence, according to the head of the Kingsport hospital."

"You exaggerate-" he scoffed.

Gilbert turned to Anne, his eyes glittering. " _Do_ forgive me, darling-" She had no time to react when Gilbert pulled his tie free and proceeded to stand and unbutton his waistcoat and shirt with quick fingers.

"Are you forgetting where you are, Blythe?" Professor Hallett spluttered, incensed.

Gilbert's voice matched his own. "Your fairness no doubt demands that you see the evidence, sir." He saw the man's eyes widen, and Anne flinched at the sight of the black and blue scrapes on his bare shoulder. "Apparently I was lucky," Gilbert said grimly. "If his boot had landed half a foot to the right, we wouldn't be having this conversation now. I've torn a ligament. They are also concerned that I have a green-stick fracture on my collarbone, however, you will be happy to note that pending reasonable rest, I should be able to resume playing next season."

"Blythe, for Pete's sake, dress yourself," Professor Hallett growled, and Gilbert began to button himself unhurriedly. "You wore no shirt and were on the floor with a female-"

Anne could see Gilbert struggling with his tie, and leant over to help him. "Because my fiance overbalanced, sir. You have already noted that he had a concussion after the game, and you can see that he was injured on his left side."

Gilbert thanked her with a twinkle in his eye, seeing the nonplussed look on the older man's face at their apparent intimacy.

"And why was no one aware of your engagement?"

Anne fielded this one, her green eyes flaming. "Because it was no one's business, sir."

"I cannot have students declaring that they are engaged every time an indiscretion is discovered!"

There was a knock at the door, and Anne's eyes showed her shock as Professor Daniels opened the door and strode in. "Hallett; I assumed you would wait for your witnesses," he commented, coming to sit in a chair that Anne had not noticed.

"There is no need," Professor Hallett growled. " _I_ know what I saw-"

Gilbert exhaled, trying to remain polite. "With all due respect, sir, we told you yesterday that what you saw was nothing more than an ill-timed accident."

The angry professor got to his feet then, towering down from his desk. "Frankly, Mr Blythe, you are lucky you even got a meeting today. And I am reliably informed that there is no such _engagement_." The last was venomously spat at the other teacher in the room, who merely looked at the couple in silence. Anne understood- he had done his part, it was up to them, now.

"Professor Hallett, what would make you say that our engagement isn't real? The personal lives of your students would not be common knowledge to the staff," she commented.

"You have met my daughter, have you not?" he asked crisply, and Anne froze. "Your class is a small one- there is no way that such a thing would be kept quiet. She would be aware of any understanding between two such _prominent_ students."

Anne cleared her throat, the picture of calm. "Miss Hallett is an intelligent and worthy academic competitor- however, there is a reason she did not know about this. We didn't tell anyone."

Hallett sneered. "You expect me to believe that an engagement is real that mysteriously came out just after the two of you were compromised?"

A matching red flush appeared on both Anne and Gilbert's faces, and she drew in a shaking breath, knowing how important it was that she not lose her temper. "Sir, it is nothing but the truth. Gilbert proposed to me, and I accepted. We were planning on telling our families when we returned home at Christmas."

He gave a laugh of disbelief. "Do not insult my intelligence, Miss Shirley. I am told that the two of you spend very little time together at college- I would question whether you have any relationship at all. I think it a ruse to cover up your impulsive and licentious behaviour."

At this, Anne sat up, her eyes dangerously green. "Sir, you will find that no one at Redmond knows Mr Blythe better than I do, and the reverse is also true. We grew up not a mile from each other."

"I am aware of your hometown," he said, in a clipped manner. "I make no uninformed decisions. On my daughter's suggestion, I paid Mr Charles Sloane a visit last evening. He knows of no such arrangement either."

Gilbert laughed, scornfully. "Sir, Charlie is-" he caught Anne's warning look, and hastily amended his words. "-ill-informed. He is not in our confidence."

Anne turned to the two men, her eyes sharp. "Professor Hallett, what is it you wish to hear? That Gilbert and I know each other's families, perhaps even how the other takes their tea? We _do_. That we were taught in a single classroom together as children and spent years studying and working together to earn our way to Redmond? We _did_. Our relationship may not have been disclosed to the public, but it is the cumulation of years of camaraderie, respect and affection."

Gilbert kept his eyes steadfastly on his hands, attempting to hide his emotion as he listened to Anne defend who they were. He could almost laugh- at no point had she said anything untrue: how fortunate then that he had formalized things with a proposal not an hour ago!

Professor Hallett took his seat then, his expression shrewd. "You are nothing if not persuasive, Miss Shirley. But after what I witnessed yesterday, I am afraid that I cannot have you on my campus in your present standing."

He smiled, seeing the way the young pair froze, and directed his glance toward the other professor, who had a curiously blank look on his face. "You are aware of the agreement you both signed on your first day at Redmond. Your behaviour is to be above reproach at all times. You have broken that agreement. No, the only way I would consider either of you continuing is that you hasten the wedding." He spread his hands out, in a mock display of concern. "Of course, I would not insist, if you weren't engaged. I would simply expel you both. I have the moral wellbeing of hundreds of students under my personal care-" here Professor Daniels snorted- "and I would not have them led astray by a pair who cannot control themselves." He observed the stillness of the couple and raised his eyebrows. "No? Getting married now was not a part of your plans? Then perhaps it would be advisable to leave Redmond."

That he was attempting to call their bluff was obvious, and Anne studied him carefully. The girls, Professor Daniels had all been right- he would never bend.

"We understand your position, professor," she said calmly, and the teacher simply blinked at them.

"You agree that you were immoral."

Gilbert took her hand in his, seeing Anne's hackles instantly rise. "We agree that to _you_ , the incident looked bad, yes."

"It would look bad to anyone with common decency," Hallett snapped. "How would _you_ see it?"

Gilbert's look was unknowingly stern. "Firstly that I was injured, and not properly checked," he said bluntly. "That was negligent, and I assume that you will look into how that happened. My fiancee did not come anywhere near the tents until the game had been over for an hour- you can understand her concern when I did not reappear. I admit that the shock of discovering the scope of my injury led me to check it without thought to Anne's presence- and the rest, as we told you, was an ill-timed accident."

"You should have had more common sense, both of you," Professor Daniels growled then, and Gilbert turned back to him in shock. "Getting married will be the least of what you have to deal with, isn't that right, Hallett?" The other professor looked puzzled by his unexpected ally, and he nodded vigorously. "You'll have to keep up with your subjects- your grades can't slide, and you will be expected to keep up with any extra-curricular activities as well." Gilbert blinked, then. He had expected he would be asked to resign from everything- and suddenly he understood what Daniels was doing. "Your scholarship requirements will not change, and you will be expected to not slacken off with regards to your future plans. Is that clear?"

Gilbert swallowed, looking to Anne to see if she had noticed. "I- I just want to make sure that I understand you, sir. The price you demand for us remaining in our capacity, without any repercussions against scholarships or our ranking is that Anne and I marry immediately. Do I understand that correctly?" This was carefully worded, and he could see the Professor Hallett frown, no doubt wondering if he had just precluded himself from punishing them in other ways.

"I never specified-"

Daniels stepped in, then. "Correct, Mr Blythe. So I assume you will rectify this immediately. The choice is yours, of course- but in view of the relationship you claim to have, and the circumstance we came across yesterday, this seems like the most prudent option."

Hallett glared at the other man, feeling distinctly unsatisfied by the morning's outcome. "The two of you had better be grateful that we were understanding. And Miss, Shirley, Mr Blythe; I will be watching you closely myself- _any_ deviation, even the slightest toe out of line from either of you, and it won't matter who is speaking for you. You have one week to satisfy my requirements."

At a nod from Professor Daniels, Anne and Gilbert stood up, and the two left his office silently. Hallett turned to him, fury etched on his face.

"They got off far too easily."

Daniels sighed. "They didn't. You didn't have to demand this of them."

A scoff was all he was met with, and Hallett stood up and picked up his bag. "You saw what I saw," he said coldly. "They won't go through with it. And they couldn't make it work if they did."

Professor Daniels shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. "Take this from someone who has been here far longer than you have, Hallett. Never underestimate an Islander."

* * *

Professor Daniels caught up to them in the atrium, puffing with exertion. "Should I assume the two of you have reached a decision?"

Gilbert clasped Anne's hand in his protectively. "Yes. We're staying."

"And you understand-"

"That we marry immediately. Yes."

Professor Daniels looked curiously at Anne then, and he turned to Gilbert. "Mr Blythe, would you mind giving me a moment to speak with your fiancee?"

Gilbert's eyes flew to Anne, however, she only nodded, her face set. Not liking the situation, he gritted his teeth, telling Anne that he would wait in the courtyard for her. Anne turned to Professor Daniels, her eyes fiery.

"Sir, you do realise that I will end up discussing whatever you have to say to me with Gilbert, don't you?"

Daniels was calm. "What I have to say concerns him- although it is you who needs to hear it, Miss Shirley."

Anne's hands clenched, not liking the direction that this was going. "My fiancee is a party to all of my concerns, sir."

He seemed to be sizing her up, then. "Even though there was no actual engagement, to begin with?"

"No, that was your embellishment," she said calmly, not allowing herself to be baited. "And yet we have decided to marry, for the sake of our schooling."

"It's that which I want to speak to you about, Miss Shirley." the older man stated stiffly. "What he is trying to attempt is difficult enough- I need you to keep him focused for the next year. And that means your domestic concerns cannot be allowed to distract him- he cannot become enslaved to home and hearth- to _you_ \- if he is going to succeed. I am sure you want his success as well, seeing that it will one day become your own."

Anne's lips had thinned, and she looked at the man, her eyes glittering dangerously. "Professor, I am very aware of everything you have done for us- and I appreciate your efforts to ensure that Gilbert will have his opportunity, despite the fact that you do not seem to show the same concern for my education." She let this sink in, and her chin rose. "If it is Gilbert's wish to attain the Cooper prize, I will do everything in my power to make that happen. However, it will be _his choice._ And I will not have you using him to satisfy college politics."

Professor Daniels was taken aback, and his eyebrows rose mockingly. "But you make it sound as if you actually care for him, Miss Shirley."

Anne's voice was crisp, and the older gentleman had to confess being impressed by her manner. "I do. We were not untruthful. He is my best friend in the world- and I am his. I assure you, for no other reason would we leap into this together. However, from this point onward, our affairs will be our own to manage, with no reference to you, or the school. The faculty has done all it can by insisting that we marry- from now on it is up to us to decide our futures. I hope that will be understood."

Professor Daniels looked at her curiously, an odd smile on his face. Winston had told him that she was no pushover- Blythe would have his hands full with his young wife. "It's a curious thing, Miss Shirley, knowing that you have the power to make or break a man. I do hope you give careful thought to what is best for Mr Blythe."

Anne stepped away from him, the authority of a queen in her grey eyes. "I wouldn't be here today if I hadn't. However I promise you, I will only ever listen to Gilbert about that."

And with that parting shot, she was gone.

* * *

Gilbert sat on the wooden bench behind the chilly fountain, his eyes on the doors to the office. Uneasily, he sorted through the possible reasons Professor Daniels could want to speak to Anne alone. As he watched for her red head to appear, a wave of fury hit him. If it wasn't enough to force them to marry for the sake of their education, were they determined to separate them too? To make sure all demands were met? Why would they speak to her about it, and not him?

Some minutes later, he watched her walk out of the building, and came to his feet to meet her. She was breathing heavily, and he took her hand in his, his look wary. "Anne? What did he say?"

Anne's jaw clenched, and she shook her head. "Later; I'll tell you later. If I talk about now, I'll end up storming back in there to scream at him. And I don't want to give him the satisfaction."

He chuckled slightly, and sat back down on the bench, sensing that she needed some space. As he watched her, Anne pulled one of her gloves off, trailing her bare fingers through the water in the stone basin between them. Her eyes were distant, and as Gilbert watched her his heart fell, suddenly feeling foolish for the dizzy thoughts of how happy they could be together. She couldn't be there yet- not now. He sighed, knowing he would need to be patient. Eventually, Anne moved to sit on the other end of the bench.

"So," Gilbert said slowly. "One week."

Anne dried her hand on her skirt slowly, donning her brown gloves again. "One week."

There was silence then, and in it, he tugged on her hand until she turned to him. He searched her eyes then, reading the worry and lack of sleep that mirrored his own. "We don't have to do this," he said softly, and she looked up at him in shock. "I know what we said, but I won't hold you to anything. I- I care about you too much to not give you a chance to say no before we make this irreversible."

Anne's intelligent grey eyes met his. "Are you backing out of your proposal, Gilbert?"

Gilbert grinned reluctantly. "No, I'm not. In fact, I'm hoping like mad that you'll slap me for suggesting that you might back out of your acceptance."

Anne chuckled. "Good guess." She did indeed aim a swat at his good shoulder and then exhaled. "Gil, our professors- the girls- they knew what they were talking about. This really is the only way."

He nodded, suddenly grinning. "Did you notice that Daniels made sure that he couldn't take our scholarships away?"

She laughed wryly. "Yes- and I think Professor Hallett noticed that too. I don't for a minute think that this is over yet."

"Of course not- we still have to get married. Err- exactly _how_ do we do that?" he asked awkwardly.

"We need someone to marry us," Anne mused. "I assume that is the most important part."

"Although somewhere to live would be good too."

Anne's cheeks reddened. "I forgot about that bit," she whispered, her look uncertain. "We had a terrible time trying to find a house last year."

Gilbert took her hand in his firmly, his eyes on the distant park. "You were looking for a house for four people, don't forget. We only need an apartment."

"With two bedrooms?"

Her hesitant question reminded him that they still had so far to go- and his heart sank. "If we can find one."

Anne swallowed, pulling away from him to tuck her skirts in. "I know- I know that wouldn't be a permanent arrangement."

Gilbert sighed. Something told him that evading the situation was useless now- and perhaps it would help to lay it all on the table. "We're going to be living together, and we will be expected to maintain the appearance of a normal marriage- but I can give you privacy even if we _do_ have to share a room- and you can give me mine. Having said that, what happens behind bedroom doors is our business alone. We owe no one any apologies for what we choose to do. Agreed?"

Anne nodded, her throat closed over.

"Like we said last night, we're staying for the sake of our schooling. So we can't- nothing like that can happen for a long time yet. And only ever with both of us agreeing." Gilbert's face was as red as her own, and he struggled to make himself clear. "Dad always said that it's not love unless it's wanted by both husband and wife."

A faint, strangled sound came from Anne then, one that he assumed meant assent. He watched in fascination then as she shook herself, and her chin came up resolutely. "So if we _did_ need to share a room," -here Gilbert gulped- "then I would assume that sharing a bed is certainly not ideal."

"No," he said with some relief, despite the warring parts of himself protesting. "Not now. And- I did think that we could board somewhere- however most boarding houses are not made for couples, so we would have almost no space."

Anne seemed to have gained a second wind by now and it was the friend she had once created the AVIS with, that she turned to. "So we need an apartment or a very small house."

Gilbert hedged. "Personally I would vote for the house- although I think it unlikely that we will find one in the winter. We might need to take anything available."

Anne nodded, before sighing. "Good heavens. I- I can't think clearly right now."

Gilbert struggled to repress a yawn. "Neither can I. I didn't sleep last night- and I assume you didn't, either."

Anne got to her feet, unable to keep from echoing his tiredness. "I need to be getting back to the girls, Gil- they must be wild with curiosity by now- and Aunt Jimsie should be home from her trip. Perhaps we should talk when we have had a chance to rest."

Gilbert nodded. "I'll walk you home- and I'll come by tonight."

The sun was climbing in the sky as they began walking up the slope to Patty's Place, and Anne surreptitiously studied Gilbert in the morning light. When they arrived at the archway, the faded autumn roses hanging low over the gate, Anne turned to him, curiously hesitant. "Did you mean what you said?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Anne, I'm not nearly as changeable as you seem to think I am. What did I or did I not mean?"

Anne looked up at the man she would be marrying in just seven days. He was her dearest friend- a good man- handsome, hardworking to a fault, and fair. It just wasn't what she had hoped- it wasn't the way she thought romance would play out in her life. She cleared her throat nervously.

"Will we try to become more than we are together now?"

Gilbert stepped closer to her, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"We're friends- best friends- but we aren't romantic, or-"

As she faltered, Gilbert took her hands in his, somehow sensing that she wasn't ready for the declaration that he had yet to make. His eyes caressed her lovingly before he drew her close and pressed a kiss to her cheek, cool in the morning breeze.

"I'm settling for nothing less than the fullest life with you, Anne," he whispered. "We can be anything we want to be; I promise."

She pulled away from him with a little smile. "Well- we know that we want to be BA's. The rest we can figure out as we go, I suppose."

Gilbert chuckled and stepped away. "Get some sleep- and I'll see you tonight."

* * *

It was nearing four-o-clock in the afternoon when a rejuvenated Gilbert walked up the pathway to the house. Six solid hours of sleep had done wonders for his mental faculties, and he looked forward now to talking with Anne about his ideas. He grimaced as he shifted his arm, wishing that on the cold day that he had thought to wear the sling the doctor had insisted on under his heavy coat. He paused with his hand on the knocker, with the sudden realisation that he wouldn't be doing this for much longer- because her home would be with him. Some instinct stayed his hand as unexpected doubts assailed him. In twenty-four hours, their lives had changed irrevocably- twenty-four hours ago, he could only ever dream of being engaged to her.

He'd not even been sure of her then. He'd contented himself with calling on her weekly, making time to study in the library when she did- he'd worked hard to be the friend that she needed him to be- and now he would be marrying her! Working and cooking and eating and _living_ together: years before he could have ever hoped for such a thing. In some ways, it was every wish he had ever had. She would be with him- he would be her escort to every event, he would get to know her in a way no one else ever would. He was thrilled about that. The other side of the situation stopped the euphoria from overwhelming him- there were things he'd hardly had time to consider. While he was convinced that they were doing the right thing, other thoughts began to torment him- he had no home, no career, no prospects. What would Marilla and his parents say? Would they blame him? And how could he convince Anne's guardian that he could care for her when he had allowed this situation to spiral out of control in the first place?

As he stood frozen on the veranda, Gilbert's hazel eyes widened in panic. How on earth had they expected this to work? Gilbert pulled back from the door as if he had been burnt, and silently walked down the steps and around the house. He sat down and leant his brown head back against a large pine tree, breathing jerkily. He had to be responsible, now- she'd be his wife, under his protection, she'd have to sleep in the same room- after all, he wasn't under any illusions about the kind of place they could afford together- oh God, how would he deal with _mornings_ with her-

There was a rustling in the grass then, and he looked up to see Anne herself approaching him, a concerned look on her face. His own twitched into something resembling a smile, and he tried to breathe slowly as she tucked her skirts in to sit beside him. He distractedly noticed that she had come outside with no coat, and realised that he had unknowingly shed his own on sitting down. He pulled it from behind him now to throw it over her shoulders, before leaning back and closing his eyes.

Anne looked at his exhausted face with a slight smile. "Was there a reason you came to our front door and made an abrupt exit before speaking to your betrothed?"

Gilbert managed a barked laugh. "I- I'm sorry Anne. I panicked. I just needed a moment." Anne made to rise, and he grabbed her wrist. "No, don't go- stay with me."

Anne looked at him, her grey eyes wide. Gilbert had always been the steadier of the two, so often the one who kept her grounded- and now she needed to know how to help him. She frowned then, seeing his hand on the ground beside her. She flushed slightly. His touch had always affected her more than she liked- on the rare occasions he had reached for her, she had at once felt warm, and as if she wanted to run from him screaming. It was an odd mixture, she reflected absently. Would it do the same for him? She tucked a loose red curl behind one ear and held her breath as she slipped her hand onto his, almost afraid to see what he would do- if he would flinch as _she_ had.

To her surprise, only seconds after she reached for him his shoulders lost some of the tension they had carried. When she turned to him he had a faint smile on his face, and he turned his palm up to hold her hand tightly.

"Thank you." He looked at her then, with a deep sigh. "Did you have a good afternoon?"

She smiled. "I slept the morning away- and then I sat down and had a heart-to-heart with Aunt Jimsie in her room."

Gilbert tensed slightly, and Anne shook her head, a loving look on her face. "She thinks we were both very foolish- but then she started talking about everything we would need to do to rescue the situation- including how to actually get married. She is quite confident that all will be well- if we don't do anything silly in the next eighteen months."

Gilbert lapsed into silence. He turned to Anne then, his eyes wistful. "You're going to be a Blythe, Anne."

"I have heard that there are worse things to be," Anne said lightly. She swallowed, and his eyes darkened at something unknown in her expression. "As much as Matthew and Marilla loved me, I'm not a Cuthbert by name; and I never got to know who the Shirley's were."

Gilbert raised his hand to push back a stray curl, his mouth quirked. "I know that the Shirley's were teachers. And they had you when they were just nineteen. They must have been exceptional- and very much in love," he said softly.

Anne smiled. "I know that you Blythes love to tease- you love your apples and are islanders by birth- and your noble hearts are legendary. I could see your ancestors being gallant knights, once upon a time. No, I think the Blythe name will wear very well."

She suddenly shivered then, and Gilbert noticed that the evening was drawing in. As they got to their feet, he took her hand in his with a smile. The panic of the previous minutes had subsided with her presence, and he bent to kiss Anne's hand in a surprisingly courtly manner.

"I accept your compliments, Miss Shirley. What now, fair maiden?"

She chuckled, willing her cheeks to not heat. "Now, we eat dinner- and I hope you are hungry, Aunt Jimsie has prepared quite a feast. After that-" she hesitated, and a rejuvenated Gilbert filled in the blanks.

"We'd better see about getting married."


	5. Chapter 5, To dwell in a Mushroom

**Chapter 5**

On Thursday evening, Anne stood before the long mirror in a white dress, her grey eyes enormous. "Stella, I don't think I can do this."

The girl in question straightened the train of the gown and rolled her eyes. "You can _so_ , Anne. I've given away every white gown my mother ever bought me- and I won't marry in white myself. Mother may like it, but it makes me look like my own corpse- my husband-to-be would go into mourning before I even made it down the aisle."

Anne chuckled, her eyes on the lovely puffed sleeves her younger self would have had raptures about. "It's so pretty, though."

"On _you_ , yes." Stella twisted back Anne's red locks from her face, looking at her friend critically. "You know, some cultures have their brides wearing red. I could make that work."

Anne picked up the skirt of the gown with a snort. "And I most certainly could not."

They turned at a step at the door, and Priscilla came in looking approvingly at Anne.

"It's lovely, sweetie. Pretty, understated- exactly suited to a young bride."

Anne turned back to the mirror, her hand smoothing over the waistline of the dress and trying to smooth the fluttering inside. She frowned slightly. She seemed to be dropping weight- although Aunt Jimsie merely piled her plate higher, saying that all brides were nervous as their wedding day neared. Of course, Anne thought dryly, most brides had longer than a week to get used to the idea.

It was now only two days before the wedding. Gilbert had come and gone from the house so often that the others had teased that he might as well move in after the wedding- this suggestion, however, was met with a resounding _no_ by the pair.

On Tuesday afternoon Gilbert had bounded up the stairs of the English lecture hall to meet Anne, nodding at an amused Professor Winston before whisking his bride-to-be around the corner of the building.

"I've found a nest for us, Anne."

Anne stared at him in disbelief. "So soon? Didn't you only start looking yesterday?"

He grinned. "It's not like we have much time, Anne. I had help. Will you come with me to my boarding house?" At her hesitant expression, he hurried to explain. "There's a cottage behind my building- I didn't even know it was a part of the property. My landlady is willing to rent it to us if we like it. It's not fancy, but it will do us for a time- and it's cheaper than what I pay now."

Anne swallowed and forced a smile. "That's wonderful."

Gilbert gave her a shrewd look. "Anne, you know I can tell when you're worried- you don't need to pretend with me."

With cheeks that flushed in vexation at being read so well, she had shaken her head. "I know. I'm just struggling to believe that this is real."

Gilbert took her hand in his, his eyes understanding. "Honestly, I am too. Will you come with me, though? I didn't want to say yes without you seeing it."

Classes were over for the day, and just ten minutes later Anne stared up at Gilbert's boarding house with huge eyes. Gilbert tugged her hand gently, and together they stood on the top step as he rang the bell.

"Mr Blythe, you haven't lost your key again-" an exasperated voice said before she noticed the redheaded girl standing beside him. "Oh. This must be your intended," Mrs Alice Whitley said stiffly.

Gilbert nodded and introduced the two women courteously. Not one to mince words, the older woman shut the door behind her, a large key chain jingling by her side. "We'll walk around- that way you don't have to walk through the house." Anne fell into step beside Gilbert, and she looked around her, still wondering if she could be dreaming. They walked along the path that ran beside the house, the crumbling wall between the boardinghouses almost completely covered with ivy. Anne shivered. The sunlight had little chance to penetrate between the walls, and a cool wind blew along the path, scattering the last remaining dead leaves about their feet.

At the end of the path, Anne halted in surprise. The cottage lay further from the house than she had imagined, with a large tree sheltering it- and on it, at least, was sunshine. Great lines of clothing ran along the far side of the yard, and beside the cottage was a small outhouse, recently- and poorly- whitewashed.

"I've got to get back to the dinner," Mrs Whitley stated briskly, handing Gilbert a set of keys. "Look around a bit, and come see me afterwards."

When she had gone, Gilbert turned to Anne with a shrug. "She's warmer than she looks."

Anne squared her shoulders, her grey eyes clear. "I don't doubt that. Shall we?"

He nodded, and together they looked at the cottage doubtfully. " _Brown_ ," was all Gilbert said.

"And not a nice one, I'm afraid. The colour looks familiar though-"

To her surprise, Gilbert suddenly snapped his fingers. "Charlie's house back home."

To this, Anne could only laugh. "Oh dear- you're right. Perhaps that doesn't bode well for us."

After fumbling with the keys to find the correct one, the door opened with an indecent screech, both sets of teeth on edge at the harsh sound. Together they stepped inside, and after a dumbfounded moment, Anne swallowed. " _More_ brown." She walked into a simple living area that merged into a small kitchen and drew in a deep breath. "It's- furnished. I hadn't even considered furniture."

Gilbert's doubtful glance turned to the mismatched pieces scattered here and there. "Neither had I. But then I've only been engaged for two and a half days."

"That's your excuse?" Anne teased lightly, moving to what she assumed was the bedroom door and stopping comically. "Oh. _Browner_."

"How is browner than brown even possible?" Gilbert asked, before coming to stand in the doorway. His eyebrows rose. "Ah. That's how."

The bedroom was far larger than Anne's blue room at Patty's Place, however, every surface was painted in the same colour- including the low ceiling. Her eyes avoided the double bed deliberately, and she opened a door to the right to discover another room to one side- one hardly big enough to hold a desk.

Gilbert ruffled his hair uneasily. "I'm sure we can find another bed- the room is big enough. And the wardrobe isn't a bad size."

Anne turned to view the chest of drawers and cupboard and nodded. "Well, we are used to living out of suitcases," she pointed out feebly. "I don't see why this wouldn't do for- for _us_."

She watched him abruptly turn to leave the room, and followed him. "Gil, what is it?"

"It just- it shouldn't be like _this_ ," he said tersely.

Anne's hands clenched. "I know that. But it _is_ , Gil."

"No, Anne, I mean that it shouldn't be like this for _you_. You should have something better than this."

Anne watched in shock as he angrily flung himself down onto the sofa, a puff of dust rising from the fabric as he did so. Slower, she went to sit in the chair near him. "I don't think there is any point in continuing to berate ourselves," Anne said carefully. "Although I'm quite sure that Professor Hallett would love to know that the guilt was eating us alive." Gilbert only snorted at this, and she sighed, looking around her. "Is it so very bad?" She couldn't help but smile at his look of scorn and stared at him candidly. "I lived in conditions you would not step foot in, oh son-of-the-land. While I admit that sunbursts and marble halls would be nicer, this is only temporary."

Gilbert cleared his throat, unwilling to admit how emotional the experience was making him. "I just wish it was better for your sake."

A flash appeared in Anne's grey eyes. "Perhaps I understood that going in, Gilbert. Perhaps I was intelligent enough to know that we are _both_ sacrificing some comfort in the short term- to prevent a much bigger sacrifice that would hurt us. What is it that you think I can't handle?"

" _Nothing_! It's not about that- it's about what a man is supposed to offer a woman-" he said angrily.

Anne bit down her temper with an effort, and crossed to sit beside him. "Gilbert, it can't be like that now," she said calmly. "You aren't meant to be taking care of me- we are partners in this now. Right now neither of us have anything to offer- except ourselves. We can do this." Her eyes twinkled then. "You may make it up to me later."

Gilbert turned to see her smile and chuckled. "Like showering you with diamonds?"

Anne scowled, to his surprise. "Certainly not. I was so disappointed when I first saw one on a lady's hand- when I read about them, I thought they would be a lovely purple."

To this, he began to laugh and looked at her fondly. "That does sound like you, Anne. Well, I'm sure I'll find something to shower you with- and we do have to live somewhere while we study. It may as well be here if we can cope with it."

Anne looked around her thoughtfully. "It's got a fireplace- furniture, it's not far from college-"

"It's cheaper than I expected, and we can use the laundry at the boarding house-"

"And we even have a living room of our own," Anne added dryly. "The bedroom is at least separate. We can put a desk beneath the window- I bought one for my room last year. The kitchen is adequate-"

Gilbert smoothed the grey fabric of his trousers over his legs uneasily. "Look here, Anne; if we are to be partners in this- I'm a terrible cook. But I want to learn. You're as busy as I am- you shouldn't have to do it all just because I know that you can."

Anne quirked an eyebrow. "You didn't do any cooking when you were in Alberta?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Nope. Porridge I can do- the ranch cook did the rest. And you know how mother was about sharing her kitchen."

Anne settled back against the sofa gingerly, thinking that the first thing the brown house needed was a decent cleaning- Marilla would have been horrified. "I _did_ offer to teach you years ago, Gil."

"And now I will say thank you and ask you to start on Monday," he replied cheerfully, making her laugh.

When they rose, Anne looked around the room. "Well- in view of our time constraints, it might be best to take this one."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "And if it proves terrible, we could look for something better when we come home next autumn." He stopped, looking down at a startled Anne. "What is it?"

She shook her head, trying to smile. "You said- coming home. It's just so strange to think that you mean- to _our_ home."

"I guess I did." He watched her curiously for a moment. "Was it wrong of me to say that?"

She chuckled, embarrassed. "No. It just takes a little getting used to, I suppose."

Gilbert stepped in close, his eyes serious. "We'll have plenty of time to get used to it, Anne. It's alright."

Anne nodded, ignoring the butterflies that had taken possession of her stomach. She gave him her best smile though and lifted her chin. "Well, suppose we go and let Mrs Whitley know that we will take this extremely brown cottage."

As Gilbert locked the door behind them, Anne turned at the gate to look at the cottage curiously. "It's like a mushroom under winter skies- the sort that grows in the shadows of the Haunted Wood."

He took her hand in his then, a small smile on his face. Being able to touch her in these small ways was quite making up for the stress of the past week, he thought dryly. Out loud, he only said- "Perhaps it's better to live in a mushroom together than in palaces far apart."

Anne chuckled, flushing. "I think so. The Mushroom House it is."

* * *

Once Anne was in her normal dress again, Stella hung it on the door of her cupboard with a smile. "And how is the future Mrs Blythe doing?"

Anne looked around her blue room wistfully. "Better than I would have expected, to be honest. I do wish I didn't have to leave this place, though."

"Ah, but to live in a house where you have a strapping fellow to cut the firewood, and you don't need to ruin your dress doing it!"

Anne chuckled wryly. "Well, there is that. There had to be something good in this mess, didn't there?"

Stella sat down next to Anne on the bed. She looked at her curiously. "You still see it as a mess?"

Anne frowned. "Well- yes. It wouldn't be happening if we hadn't been so foolish- or if I hadn't," she muttered.

Stella sighed, leaning back on her hands. "You're not happy about any of it?"

"I wouldn't say that," she said slowly. "If I could have picked anyone to face it all with- the ridicule and gossip and un-comfortableness- it would certainly be Gilbert. He's been wonderful."

Stella was silent for a time, trying to gauge if she should speak openly. "What are you going to do, Anne?" she asked quietly. "Gilbert has a good heart- he cares about you- and he doesn't want a sham marriage. Neither do you."

Anne paled. "I don't know. I suppose- I assumed that somewhere along the line we would begin to love each other for real- wouldn't we?"

Stella let out a cautious breath. "Are you quite sure that you don't already? The two of you are already so close."

Anne swallowed. "I know that he cares for me- and there is no one I care about more, in some ways- but it's so sudden. I'm not in love with him- and yet he's going to be my husband. And while a part of me still wants to run screaming from the idea of a marriage right now, another part is frightened of what would happen to us if we didn't do it now. I- don't want to lose him."

Stella could only look at Anne helplessly, knowing that she wasn't ready to face the truth yet. "You're right. That's a lot to deal with."

"Which is why we need to take things slowly. The gossip has barely begun for us, yet. Professor Hallett will be watching us constantly. We have to get through our courses- and Gilbert wants to go to medical school afterwards," Anne said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Stella was quick to put her arms around her, and she gave Anne a tight squeeze. "Well, it sounds as if you have plenty of time to figure things out in that case," she said bracingly. "You know we'll be here for you both. And if anyone can make this work, it's the two of you. I honestly don't know what Hallett was thinking, making the two of you team up- you'll be unstoppable together."

* * *

Later that night, after a merry dinner with the girls and Aunt Jimsie, Anne lay in her bed staring up at the dark ceiling. At the moment, her days seemed to be spent reassuring everyone that she was fine- her nights, on the other hand, were comprised of small bouts of sleep, followed by waking in a panic, thinking that she heard someone breathing in the same room. It was ludicrous, of course. Gilbert was on the other side of town, most likely asleep- and she was alone.

For just two more days.

On Monday they had met with Phil's Jonas. Under the sanction of the austere Reverend of the Presbyterian church, Jo would conduct the wedding himself in the company of the little household. He sat with the couple in the dining room listening to the tale with no trace of judgment on his face- and once, Anne even thought she caught a suspicious twinkle in his eye. When they were done though, he talked to them both sensitively and compassionately about their expectations for their marriage, how they planned to continue studying while they got used to the new conditions of their life, and when they were planning on telling their families. When Phil brought in some tea, Anne couldn't help a little sigh at the obvious affection between the pair- although when she had turned back, a set of hazel eyes had been trained on her thoughtfully- and she had found her cheeks burning as her own eyes dropped.

On Tuesday they had seen and accepted the cottage- Gilbert's landlady had been brisk and thorough in her expectations: the place was to be kept tidy at all times; rent was due on the first of every month, and visitors must be gone by ten at night. They were to be very careful with the walls, too- her husband (God rest his soul) had sealed the cracks and repainted it only fifteen years ago. Gilbert's face was preternaturally solemn, as he reassured her that they would guard the paintwork carefully.

On Wednesday night they had gone over their finances together- which had gone rather more smoothly than one would have expected. Tuition for the two of them had been covered by scholarships until the end of the school year, and their path to Redmond had of necessity involved careful budgeting. Anne had somewhat guardedly told her future husband that she had planned to find work through the summer, unsure of how she would react if Gilbert had argued. As it happened, he had only been relieved- his own calculations had shown him that it was necessary he worked for the summer as well. Patty's Place had given Anne good practice in household management, and she was confident that she would be able to do the same at the brown cottage. Gilbert, in turn, had brought with him a list of everything they would need for the cottage to be comfortable, and for the year to come. Aunt Jimsie had sat with them then, suggesting things the couple had not yet thought of- including the mention of a large bathtub, which silenced poor Anne for the next ten minutes.

Anne forced herself to breathe deeply now, trying to relax under Mrs Lynde's warm quilt. They knew each other, and they knew what they were getting into. They knew each others' families- and as little as Anne liked it, their families had most likely assumed that this marriage would happen one day. She gave a deep sigh, pushing her pillow into a comfortable position. Marilla would be happy that it was Gilbert, she thought wistfully. She understood the hopes the older woman had quietly cherished- she understood too what Marilla hoped they would mend.

Idly, she tugged on the long red braid that lay beside her. Had Gilbert ever known about that?

She had packed up her stories last night- the books and loose sheets that had held her imagination in glowing and emotional words. She had laughed a little at the childlike stories of the Story Club- and she had cried over the girls who had created them. Jane, now teaching on the prairies; Diana, faithfully waiting at home to be married to her Fred. And beautiful Ruby- Anne shivered. Had it really been over a year since they had lost her?

Unwillingly, then, she remembered the imaginary suitor she had dreamed of as a girl- the exotic, melancholy gentleman who would whisk her into places unknown.

He wasn't _real_. Deliberately, she gritted her teeth, replaced him in her mind's eye with Gilbert. She had made her choice. They would battle through this- they would lead a good life together. She drew in a shaking breath and tried to close her eyes.

Sleep, however, resisted her until dawn's rays dared to peek through the inky sky.

* * *

By Friday night, Anne had worked herself into quite a state. Sleep deprived and exhausted, she had gone home determined to pack her belongings for the following day. She dragged the heavy trunks down from the attic, fighting back tears at the summer gowns that should not have made an appearance for many months. Stubbornly, she wrestled them into trunks that suddenly began to seem too small. There was nothing more to be done- and she wouldn't discuss it any further with the girls. With Gilbert it was easier to restrict conversations to what was practical and necessary right now- if he had noticed her emotionally withdrawing from him as the week wore on, he made no mention of it.

Anne shook herself. In one day it would be irrevocable- and in one day she would be Gilbert Blythe's _wife_. She shivered at the images that popped unbidden into her mind. Sharing a bedroom- washing dishes together, working and laughing- him holding her close-

If she was honest, this terrified her more than anything else. She didn't doubt that they would find a way to make it livable. What suddenly frightened her was the fact that the boundary lines would blur- she couldn't protest that she felt nothing for him if she was willing to marry him now, could she? She pulled the photographs down from the mantelpiece, odd poems and pictures that she had stuck on the wall, including one that Gilbert had given her for Christmas the previous year. Anne studied it absently. He'd told her that he had found it in a market stall- a picture of a rocky shore, with storm clouds building over a deep blue ocean. Tucked into the back of the frame was the small card he had included- " _for the one who constantly challenges my horizons_ ," he had cheekily written. Back then, she had laughed flippantly to cover her unsettled mind- there had been an intensity in his eyes that night that startled her. Almost a year ago now heavy winter storms had swept through the northern shore, almost severing the paths between outlying farms; and yet Gilbert had faithfully waded through the drifts to come and see her when he could, his hazel eyes fixed on her in each poignant moment of silence.

Anne sat down on her bed, her heart beating queerly. For the first time, she had to ask- what did it mean that Gilbert could so unsettle her with a glance? She had been so determined that she would not allow this- _whatever_ \- was growing between them. It was foolish to limit themselves when there were horizons to be fought for. She lifted a shaking hand to brush a small tear away from her cold cheek. Now she had unconsciously trapped them into a future that they had not planned for. Could her horizon still exist?

She rose to her feet then, clenching her jaw. Well, she may have limited her own future- but she would never limit his. Gilbert would have his dream.

She would make darned sure of that.

* * *

Patty's Place was filled with classmates and friends that night- Stella and Priscilla had brought friends over, never giving any hint to their guests that the juiciest gossip of the junior year was being harboured under their roof. Anne herself had moved through the past week in great trepidation of the whispers starting, although nothing had as yet been said- there was, however, a certain gleam in Claire Hallett's eyes whenever she looked at Anne. She hadn't spoken to Gilbert about that yet- he had enough to worry about. And how could she argue with a look?

Conspicuously absent that night was Gilbert himself, who was moving his belongings into the brown cottage. In her own anxiety, Anne herself preferred to stay away from the noise and fuss, and had been dragged down from her almost bare room by Phil. She insisted that the right company would do her good- and took her into the cosy dining room for tea and cake with herself and her beloved Jonas. Jo's gentle humour and sincerity had quite won an Anne who had been eager to approve of him, and she found herself talking to him openly.

Phil sipped her tea, her brown eyes twinkling at the way Jonas had penetrated the bubble Anne had placed herself in for the past week. For a moment she was distracted by his wide mouth, the way his over-large hands brushed the messy hair out of his face and then she suddenly heard what Anne was saying.

"How can you feel so easy about this?"

Phil sat up in some concern.

Jo grinned. "You imply that I _shouldn't_ feel easy about officiating your wedding? I'm quite good at it by now- you'll be my second."

A worried Anne flushed, folding her arms. "I only meant that this particular type of wedding might have caused you an ethical dilemma."

He sobered then, his elbows resting on the table. "Anne, I certainly don't see it that way. Can I ask how _you_ see it?"

Anne, who had not expected this question, found herself hesitating. "I- I wonder if it's right," she said softly. "Love should be the only thing that would motivate one to matrimony."

Jonas frowned. "I would agree with that." Anne seemed to only grow more upset, and he pushed himself forward to clarify his words. "What is the most powerful form of love?"

Anne blanched. "Do you mean distinguishing between romantic, or more filial types of affection?"

Jonas smiled at her earnest face, taking note also of the warm look Phil was giving him. "Not exactly. We are told that there are different types of love- Agape, divine love; Phileo, friendship, Storge, affection. And of course Eros- romantic love."

Anne gave a half smile, remembering the Greek essays that had driven the small household to distraction. "I suppose I always thought romantic love was the strongest of them," she said absently.

Jo nodded, his green eyes thoughtful. "Yes, it is often viewed that way. I wonder, though, if we miss something by dividing it. Love has many appearances, and yet it is always given as a gift. I see no lack of love here at all, Anne." At her disbelieving look, his face seemed to light up with fervour. " _Love_ , Anne. 'Greater love hath no man than this- that a man lay down his life for his friends'," he quoted quietly. "I've always believed that we choose to love- and the two of you are choosing to lay down your own lives for each other right now."

Anne's face was stunned. "But we are only doing it because we have to-"

Phil spoke softly, then. "No, honey. The two of you always had a choice. I know that you've had your doubts this week- but you haven't changed your mind, even if you are scared. Why not?"

Anne paled. "Because I wouldn't do that to Gilbert. I promised. I won't let him deal with this alone."

Jo reached across to place a hand on Anne's arm, his look earnest. "That's love, Anne. I know it's not customary to do it like this- but a firm friendship, respect, fidelity, honour and affection- _that_ is love in action. Everything else- and I do mean romantic love as well- will grow from what you already have. I believe that with all my heart."

Anne carefully raised a shaking hand up to wipe away a tear. "I- I suppose I hadn't thought about it like that. It just doesn't seem right to decide it so coolly, though."

Jo crossed his arms speculatively. "You know the vows, don't you?"

She gave a tired laugh. "They have been running through my mind of late, yes."

"For better or worse- in sickness and in health, for as long as you both may live. Anne, do you intend to carry those vows out to the best of your ability?"

A slight spark came into her grey eyes, and she sat up straighter. "I would not promise that if I didn't intend to carry it out," she said quietly. "I intend to be the wife that he needs- whatever _that_ may be. Even if I _do_ have some questions about the 'obey' part," she mumbled, making the other two laugh.

"I don't think there is a woman alive who hasn't questioned that," Jo commented, with a sly look at the girl who was refilling his cup. She only winked at him cheekily. "I won't say it will be easy- and it may be a hard road, to begin with. But as a _clergyman_ ," he said gently, "I haven't the slightest misgiving in marrying the two of you tomorrow."

Anne chuckled shyly. "Thank you, Jo. Do you need to have this discussion with Gilbert as well?"

Jonas gave her a curious look then. "No- I don't think he needs this particular conversation."

Anne shrugged, her smile unconsciously fond. "No. I suppose Gilbert is too practical to get caught up in questions of theoretical morality."

Jo turned to Phil in some surprise, only to see her smile with an understanding roll of the eyes. He himself had spent several hours with Gilbert through the week- once to clarify some details for the paperwork, and he'd helped him move furniture around only that afternoon in the tiny cottage. He understood at once why Phil had spoken so highly of him, and he looked forward to getting to know Gilbert Blythe better, over the coming months.

Phil smiled at him, and then took a long look at the bride-to-be. "Anne, honey, you need to go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow."

Her friend scowled. "Something I did try to tell you earlier," she pointed out. "Thank you both, though. I'm sure you can find much better things to do without me now," she teased, standing up from her chair and stretching her arms luxuriously. With a wave, she was gone to skirt her way around the busy living room, and Phil watched her head for the stairs through the open door.

Jo rubbed his face in some bewilderment. "She has no idea, does she?"

Phil sighed, rising to close the door again. "Oh, she knows, alright. She just won't admit that she knows. The only question is- how long will it take her to admit that she and Gilbert have been in love with each other all along?"


	6. Chapter 6, Dearly Beloved

**Chapter 6**

On the morning of his wedding, Gilbert strode nervously around the brown cottage, moving furniture this way and that to get the best effect- only to move it back again moments later. He walked again to the bedroom they would be sharing that night, pausing anxiously to look around the room. He smoothed the large quilt his mother had insisted on sending with him two and a half years ago, uneasily looking over at the small iron bed that Mrs Whitley had unearthed from the attic. He and Anne had already had several 'discussions' over the other taking the larger bed- and Gilbert was startled to find that her voice had not even raised once. It was only later that he realised that she knew she had won before the argument even took place- so she simply didn't bother to fight hard. He would take the larger bed, and in turn, he had found a small screen that would give her bed some privacy- as well as his own, he thought with some chagrin. Had she warm enough bedding to be comfortable here?

Mrs Whitley had inspected the house the day before, taking inventory of everything that was in the cottage. He could say with certainty that they had two saucepans, a frying pan and mismatched cutlery enough for five people. There were five glasses, three mugs, and a chopping board, four yellow bowls, four brown dinner plates and a set of wooden spoons. Every piece of linen had been itemized, as had the kettle and toasting rack. As the list had grown, he had swallowed nervously. It was a paltry enough beginning for them- compared to what a newlywed couple should expect to begin with, at least. Apparently, it had been furnished and used by Mrs Whitley's sister, although she had not been to stay for several years.

Gilbert shook himself now, trying to be practical. It was enough- they could keep warm, clean, and put food on the table.

(Items checked off next: 1 brown table, 1 black chair with cushion, 2 wooden stools and a wicker dining room chair.)

When all was ready in the house, Gilbert sat down nervously to wait. Jo would collect him at half-past ten. The wedding service was set for eleven, to be followed by an intimate luncheon at the house- or so Priscilla had informed him. He had attempted to have his last breakfast in the boarding house, however, he'd found himself unable to swallow a thing. He supposed every groom was nervous on his wedding day.

Gilbert swallowed, thinking of the look on Anne's face when he had said goodbye to her the previous afternoon. There was a part of him that had gone on tiptoe before her- so afraid that she would tell him she had changed her mind. She hadn't, though. She'd been pale- she'd allowed him to take her hand, and nodded when he told her he would see her in the morning. She'd even smiled a little when he pointed out that they could hardly be accused of eloping- all the proper ceremonies would take place, including a rather stern chaperone in Aunt Jimsie, who insisted that Gilbert not be allowed to see Anne the evening before the wedding.

Gilbert hadn't minded. The older woman had been a source of strength for Anne that week, talking to her calmly and practically, and making her smile with tales of her own wedding. She had given him a basic list of groceries to stock the pantry with as well- the previous afternoon he had arrived home with full baskets that the store had loaned him, looking in consternation at the way it hardly filled the small cupboards. Guiltily, he put the baskets away, hoping that he had enough at least to feed the two of them on Sunday. They could see to the rest after the weekend.

* * *

When the two men arrived at Patty's Place early, Gilbert had expected to find the living room just the way he had the day before- and he stepped inside in shock. Priscilla was just putting the finishing touches on the room now and turned to beam at the bridegroom. The furniture had been moved back leaving the centre of the room clear; the fire crackled in the grate, its wooden mantelpiece now decorated with winter-blooming flowers and ivy. He noticed that the heavy winter drapes had been pulled back, and every surface shone.

"It looks like a different room," he said wonderingly.

"And so it should," Priscilla said. "We've been up scrubbing since dawn."

Gilbert shook his head dumbly. "Priss- I- we can't thank you enough for what you've done for us- what you've done for Anne."

Priscilla smiled, coming close to adjust his tie, and looked critically at Gilbert's light grey suit. "Very nice, Gil. Anne will be pleased."

He swallowed nervously then. "How- how is she? Is she doing alright?"

She chuckled, scooping up the last of the flowers from the sofa. "She's fine- honestly, I think it's the calmest she's been all week."

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm glad one of us is."

Stella and her aunt came from the kitchen then, both attired in their best and covered with voluminous aprons as they carried plates through to the dining room. Jo had come in from caring for the horse, and within minutes he and the girls were seated in the living room talking. There was a step behind them then, and Gilbert's head turned quickly to meet Phil.

"And everyone is here!" she commented, her smile warmest for the young minister beside Gilbert. "I am glad- Anne was ready half an hour ago- she's growing nervous waiting in her room."

Gilbert was on his feet in an instant. "Why would she wait there? She could be down here with us instead."

Phil chuckled. "Because the bride is allowed to do as she pleases- and she said that it wouldn't be right to come down before we were getting started." She looked at him thoughtfully. "Will you be escorting her downstairs?"

Gilbert looked up at the staircase in dismay. "We- we didn't talk about it."

Phil settled herself in his seat cheekily, waving her hand. "Well, go on up now, Gil- she said that you might."

"She _did_?"

Phil gave a chuckle. "Yes. You're marrying her in half an hour, Gilbert. I'm sure we can all trust you to be in her room for a few minutes."

Gilbert turned from the room with a heated face, cringing as he heard Aunt Jimsie scolding her for being so flippant before the young reverend. He walked up the stairs warily, wondering if he would know which room was hers. There was, however, only one door which was closed- and no other room was blue.

He knocked on the door and heard Anne's soft voice bidding him enter. When she turned, the picture she made in her white dress would be branded on his memory for all time. A veil fell softly over red hair, not yet pulled over her face, and he smiled, seeing that she wore Matthew's pearls against a pretty lace collar. She picked up the train of her skirt, and his eyes wonderingly followed the long sleeves to the pretty puffs above them. There was a quizzical smile on her face, and she was silent while he studied her, her cheeks flushing at his evident approval.

"I actually look like a bride," she whispered, and he grinned in wonder, coming forward to take her hand.

"I- I can't- Anne, you're perfect," he stated, his face heating at his inept words. He chuckled, trying to pull himself together. "I mean- I just can't imagine you being more lovely- not even if we had years to plan this."

She smiled then, moving forward to touch the grey lapel of his suit. "You look very handsome, too." She was still for a moment, and wistful grey eyes turned to him. "Your parents would be so proud to see you like this. Although- perhaps not under these circumstances."

Gilbert ran his hand down her slender arm, his hazel eyes yearning. "Anne, I don't want us to dwell on that today," he whispered. "I know that sounds selfish- but this is our wedding day. _Ours_ , Anne." He could see tears brimming in her eyes, and his finger stroked her cheek. "In years to come, I want to be able to tell our family that this was a _good_ day. The consequences- they aren't going anywhere. It's going to be hard when word gets out- and it will be hard on our families to learn that they missed this. We can't do anything about that yet. But for today, I want to celebrate. I want to remember this."

He blinked as her fingers closed slightly around his. "I suppose- it will be our only wedding," she acknowledged quietly, and he smiled at the slight sparkle in her eyes. He took her other hand as well, pausing to look appreciatively at her slender form.

"Marilla and my parents will want to know everything at Christmas," he slyly commented. "What we wore, what we did, the ceremony- and since you are by _far_ the better storyteller-"

Anne smiled up at him. "I could write our story for them."

"I'd like to read it if you do," he admitted softly.

There was a moment of silence, and when her eyes came up to meet his, he raised his hand to tenderly tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Gil?"

He had been distracted by the feel of her silky curls between his fingers, and his eyes were only pulled back to her own with her unexpected question.

"Would- you- kiss me?"

He froze, looking down into the eyes that held a hint of trepidation in their now green depths. "We- we have to have our first kiss in front of everyone," she stuttered then, her cheeks pink with mortification. "I've never done it before."

Gilbert's mouth twitched, his hand tightening on hers involuntarily. "Neither have I," he admitted.

Anne pulled back, some of her confidence returning at his candour. "And what of Josie and Ruby, then?"

Gilbert frowned comically. "I beg your pardon?"

"Josie said that you were twelve when you kissed her."

"When I was twelve I was in Alberta," he said, amused. "Next?"

"Oh- Ruby- Ruby said she kissed you while we were at Queens. At the winter dance, I think," Anne said feebly. "I didn't imagine that she would fabricate something like that."

He smiled, amused that this was how they would spend the last moments before their wedding. "Oh, she didn't make up the kiss- but she kissed _Charlie_ at the winter dance. By accident. I went there with her, alright- but she grabbed the wrong man when we were walking the girls back to their boarding house."

Anne blinked up at her bridegroom in shock. "Did she think it was you?"

He grinned wickedly. "Well, not after Charlie told her off for being too forward about it- said if she'd wanted him, the least she could do was to be nicer to his mother."

Anne merely gaped at him. "Then why would she say that it was _you_?"

"Would _you_ admit to your first real kiss being with Charlie Sloane?"

Anne began to laugh, her cheeks pink. "Well, no. I feel badly enough that he was my first _in-person_ proposal."

It was Gilbert's turn to look dumbfounded. "He _was_?"

Anne's face blanched guiltily. "Oh. I thought you would have heard about that from him. It didn't go so well."

Gilbert shook his head expressively. "Obviously. You'll need to tell me the story sometime."

Anne grinned wickedly. "Well, Billy Andrews was technically my _first_ proposal. Perhaps I should start there."

Poor Gilbert looked vaguely aghast at this new revelation. "Right. Well, I suppose we can enter this marriage with all skeletons exposed, at least."

Anne chuckled. "I suppose so. Oh, poor Ruby."

Gilbert grinned. "I don't think she ever forgave me for switching places, really. Frank Stockley helped to soothe some ruffled feathers though- and he was only too happy to take my place with her after that, I can tell you. I wasn't sorry," he admitted frankly. "I was always told that it was meant to mean something when you kissed someone."

Anne had forgotten some of the tension of the moment and then looked up to catch his eyes. "So you really haven't ever-"

He only shook his head, longing twisting in his stomach- didn't she understand yet that he'd only wanted her? He watched her eyes fall to his mouth, and his breathing accelerated. One day he'd be able to tell her everything. One day soon, he promised himself. He moved closer to her now, and her shaking hands flew between them, grasping his shirt by instinct. He met her feverishly bright eyes for one moment, and he bent to press a breathless and tender kiss on her lips as every boy he had ever been roared in silent triumph.

Anne's ability to think utterly dissolved as soon as she felt his warm lips on hers. His mouth was so much softer than she would have thought, his warmth sending a tremor straight through her body. When he pulled away after a moment, she looked at him in shock.

"Anne, honey, _breathe_ -"

She drew in a breath in a small gasp, her cheeks heating as her fingers tightened on his clothing. "Oh- th- thank you- I- I err-"

Gilbert's eyebrows flew up in consternation. "Wasn't that- was that bad?"

She seemed to catch her breath properly then and shook her red head with a blush. "No- it was- _very_ nice- I mean, it was- nice."

His hand ran down her arm unthinkingly, and he nodded, nonplussed. "So we just do it like that, then?"

Anne's eyes were huge. "You want to do that _again_?"

Gilbert frowned. "You mean in the wedding?"

" _Oh_! Oh, yes. At our wedding. Well, we _should_ , we're getting married-" Anne began to babble, and he couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation. Without thought he pulled her into a hug, and kissed the top of her head, smiling when her arms tentatively came around his waist. She pulled away after a moment, her cheeks still pink. "I suppose this is why most people practice before the wedding," she muttered sheepishly.

Gilbert grinned, somehow standing taller. "Eh, so we're jumping a few steps today. We've always been precocious. We didn't talk for five years- then we were best friends for nearly four- we certainly can't say that we don't know each other."

Anne chuckled. "And what comes next for us, Mr Blythe?"

Gilbert stroked her soft cheek in his hand, smiling at the way it instantly heated. "And now we slow things down a bit, and see where the road takes us."

Anne nodded, and she bent down to pick a winter-white bouquet from her bed. She saw Gilbert's look of surprise and smiled. "The girls insisted on having flowers. Queen Anne's Lace- Phil chose that one for obvious reasons. Stella liked the gardenias- and Prissy chose the white narcissus."

Gilbert reached out to touch the soft petals. "And who chose the white roses?"

"I did," she admitted without looking at him, turning the flowers so that the pink ribbon tying them together showed. "You once told me that you liked them best."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "When?"

"When I first took you to Hester Gray's garden," she said quietly, and he looked at her for long moments in wonder. He swallowed hard and took her other hand in his.

"I- I do. They remind me of _this_ ," he admitted slowly, tracing his finger on the skin of her slender wrist.

At his tenderness, Anne made an effort to clamp down the emotions bubbling up inside, not yet willing to examine the closeness between them that could be no ordinary friendship. She stepped away from him shyly then, glancing at the bags and boxes waiting to go to her new home.

"Suppose we go and get married now," she said in a soft voice, and suddenly his hazel eyes begin to twinkle.

"I don't know what to say, Miss Shirley; that's quite _forward_ of you-"

" _Gilbert_ -"

"And if you want me, then the _least_ you could do is to be nicer to my mother-"

She laughed at him then, aiming a light smack on his one good arm. "I'm in already in a wedding dress, and you are dressed _so_ nicely, so it doesn't seem like that much of a stretch- besides, you said that your mother _adored_ me."

"She does. Many do." He smiled, offering his arm to his bride to be. As she placed her hand in the crook of his arm, grey eyes met hazel, and he looked at her for a long moment. "We'll do this together, won't we?"

Anne smiled, feeling more at peace at this moment than she been had all week.

"Together."

* * *

There was no great fanfare to announce the bride and groom entering the living room, and yet all stood as Gilbert proudly escorted Anne down the stairs. The grey day outside had no bearing on the warm and intimate space within, and as Gilbert turned to ask Jo something Anne looked around the room in contentment. The fragrance of the flowers, the warm fire- the girls in their best, talking together happily. She caught Gilbert's eye and smiled. She had to admit that her groom was every bit as handsome as she had once dreamed he would be; and as she watched the two men talking about the ceremony to come, she admired the set of his jaw, the sturdy breadth of his shoulders. She drew in a breath of relief. Gilbert was right; somehow, they would survive this together.

There was a knock at the door then, and all in the house looked at each other in sudden panic, until Gilbert turned to Anne apologetically.

"It's alright- Jo suggested that it would be a good idea to have someone outside Patty's Place to be a witness, preferably a Redmond student. I picked the one fellow I knew I could trust to not say anything until we were ready to."

Anne turned in shock to see Priscilla open up the door, and a sheepish Moody Spurgeon-Macpherson stood on the doorstep with a neatly wrapped gift in one hand. He stepped inside, removing his cap. Anne felt Gilbert come to her side, his hand slipping into hers as he came toward the couple. Gilbert made a faint sound as Anne squeezed his hand much harder than she needed to in her anxiety.

Moody cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Anne, Gilbert explained everything- although I was a bit worried that he was pulling my leg, at first," he said feebly. "It seemed like a good prank to me."

Anne couldn't help but chuckle at her old school friend, her shoulders losing some of their tension. "If it is, it is the most elaborate joke ever told," she said dryly. "Thank you, Moody. You do understand-"

"That under no circumstances is anyone to know just yet," he finished, his tone solemn. "And especially not at home. Oh, and Charlie can't say anything, even if he does find out."

Anne froze. "You mean- he _doesn't_ know anything?"

Gilbert turned to her with an impish look. "Nope. I forgot to tell you- he's been sick since Monday- and you know he would have demanded an explanation from me if he'd heard anything, sick or not."

Anne gaped at him. "But Professor Hallett went to see him-"

"And yet the good fellow didn't have the imagination to ask himself _why_ ," Gilbert said smugly.

Moody shrugged. "He thought it was because he is a student representative. You know Charlie- he thinks the position is second only to parliament. Anyhow, apparently he's got the measles- the doctor said he can't physically write till he's sure of not infecting anyone. I had to telegram his parents to say that he won't be home until the day before Christmas."

Anne turned to Gilbert guiltily. "I shouldn't be happy about that-"

He half-smiled. "And yet it means that we can tell our families in person in a fortnight- I wasn't looking forward to us writing that letter."

"Nor I."

Moody scratched his nose dolefully. "Personally, I think it's all rather romantic," he said, astounding the young couple to no end.

Jo cleared his throat then, and all eyes turned toward him, his voice showing his good humour. "Anne, Gilbert, now that we are all here, shall we get started?"

The couple looked at each other, and Gilbert simply waited. Anne bravely smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with humour and something unknown in their grey-green depths. "Yes. Let's get started."

Phil, who would act as Anne's bridesmaid moved them to stand before the fireplace, where Gog and Magog stood watch over them. Anne' hands shook slightly as she took up her bouquet, until Gilbert took her hand, nudging her.

She drew in a deep breath, for just a moment allowing him to see her fear. "Together?" she asked so that only he could hear her, and he gave her a gentle look as he nodded.

"Just like we planned. Together."

* * *

The short ceremony seemed to take no time at all- Jo's deep voice led them through the words, interrupted by little sobs and _ahhh's_ from the girls and Aunt Jimsie behind them. Moody stood ramrod straight beside Gilbert, his beady blue eyes on Jo, yet with something in them that said that Gilbert's trust was justified.

Gilbert turned to Anne to see her handing her flowers to Phil and took both of her hands in his as he recited the vows. When he had repeated them, and before Jo could turn to Anne for her own vows Gilbert suddenly spoke up again.

"I promise to try and make you smile," he blurted out, making Anne look up at him in shock. "I'll say that I'm sorry if I hurt you. I won't betray you- I won't leave you- and I promise that I will do everything I can to make your dreams come true."

Jo startled them with his gentle chuckle. "Well said. Anne, do you have anything you wish to say first?"

Anne's cheeks were bright red, and she looked up at the person who seemed to know her better than anyone. "I will lose my temper," she offered reluctantly, making Gilbert and the others grin. "I will be frustrating, and red-headed- but I'll say that I'm sorry afterwards. And I won't ever- _ever_ stand in the way of your dreams."

There was a silence then, and Jo cleared his throat, leading Anne through the vows and smiling as Gilbert placed the slender golden wedding band on her finger. Aunt Jimsie was now sobbing into her lavender handkerchief, and there was a look of sunlight on the groom's face that had Stella poking Priscilla in the ribs in glee. When Jo was done, he closed his brand new order of service book and bowed his head, a beautifully worded wedding prayer falling from his lips that made Anne thrill inside. When he was done, Jo began the benediction, and she looked up at Gilbert, her breath suddenly taken away at the sheer happiness on his face. She looked down at her ring in some shock, to hear Jo saying-

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. Gilbert, you may kiss your bride."

Remembering their shaky first kiss only a short time ago, Anne's eyes twinkled slyly. Gilbert grinned at her, and with only six people to witness their second, his hands cupped her cheeks and he pressed his lips to hers as the girls and a surprisingly jovial Moody whooped and clapped. He pulled away with a grin in the uproar, his voice low so that only Anne could hear. "Hmm. I think it was even better the second time."

Her cheeks were a fiery red, and she elbowed him before the girls descended on them, leaving Aunt Jimsie to congratulate Jonas on officiating his second wedding and to introduce young Moody to him as a hopeful ministerial candidate.

As Phil pulled Gilbert into a hug, Priscilla beamed at Anne.

" _Mrs Gilbert Blythe_ ," she said, satisfied. "Congratulations, sweetie."

Anne chuckled. "It's a lot to get used to," she said softly.

"You have plenty of time, now," Priscilla reminded her. "Now, come on, Anne, Aunt Jimsie has made us all quite the feast to celebrate."

This, it turned out, was quite the understatement. Little iced cakes, ribbon sandwiches and pastries, a beautifully jointed and carved chicken with salads, and a small wedding cake that took pride of place on the tea table. Over the luncheon, the talk between the eight of them ranged far and wide, and Anne found herself relaxing at what must have been the simplest wedding in all history. Aunt Jimsie scolded Phil for her levity before Jonas, who had only chuckled at her bright chatter. Stella and Priscilla joked and teased the shy Moody into coming out of his shell, and the discussion then turned then to what the next few weeks would look like for the new households.

Priscilla would be moving into Anne's blue room the following day. She teased Stella that she could finally do her morning exercises without someone scoffing at her- and Stella, in turn, could sleep until the very last minute each morning. There was a small twinge of hurt in Anne at the thought of relinquishing her pretty room, until she felt Gilbert bump her shoulder, his look mischievous.

"You'll have to figure out how to make _our_ room pretty," he said in an undertone. "I tried- I even put flowers in it- but it still looks like a cave."

Anne chuckled, trying to not show him her nerves about sharing a bedroom that night. "Who paints a ceiling brown?" she said, wonderingly.

Gilbert snorted. "The Whitley's, apparently. We'll need lamps in there even in the daytime."

"We'll be at college through the day," she reminded him softly.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Phil rising to her feet with a bossy _ahem_.

"There had to be at least one speech today- and I decided that it may as well be me," she said to the newlyweds cheekily. "While we wish that it wasn't necessary for you to leave us, Anne, we will always think of your Mushroom as an extension of Patty's Place."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Must you call it by that ridiculous name? Even in another language, it would be more respectable. _Champignon Place_ , for example."

Anne chuckled. "You'll understand when you see it, dear. It is a very plain, very ordinary mushroom. Hopefully not poisonous."

" _Ahem_."

"Sorry, Phil," Stella muttered, her black eyes twinkling.

The girl with the brown curls scowled at the giggling girls before her. "As I said, your house is a part of our own- and we expect you to come every Friday night without fail- _both_ of you. Gil, you're family now, just as Anne is," she said matter of factly, as the girls nodded behind her. "We'll be there for you both, and we'll do whatever we need to, to help. We believe in you both," she said simply. "And I simply cannot wait to see you make Hallett eat his words."

The room erupted in chuckles then, and everyone looked to Gilbert then, as Phil sat down. He took Anne's hand in his, giving her a loving look.

"Thank you all," he said to the others. "You made today beautiful for us- and we're thankful. And I'm sorry that I'm taking Anne away from you all," he said sheepishly. "The door to our Mushroom is always open- oh, unless it rains," he added brightly, turning to his wife. "It sticks in the rain, apparently. I'll need to fix that."

Gilbert's attempt at a speech ended with laughter, and the wedding cake was served with cups of tea. It was nearing two in the afternoon when Jonas said that he needed to be going, and he turned to the bride and groom, his father's horse and buggy being used to transport them to their home. Anne rose with the girls to move her belongings downstairs, the larger trunks already waiting in the foyer.

The work was completed quicker than Anne would have supposed- and as Gilbert helped Anne on with her heavy coat and hat, Moody and Jo loaded the last of the suitcases into the buggy. She turned to the women who had been her housemates, trying to control her tears. This, however, proved futile.

Gilbert stood at the gate, waiting for her to say goodbye to the girls. It was all very well to say that they would see them on Monday morning at Redmond- however, he had enough experience with women to know that emotions didn't respond well to logic. And so Gilbert waited patiently as she hugged them all, lingering to be held by Aunt Jimsie for long moments. When Anne stepped away from her though, she turned to him with a glint of determination in the grey eyes that he loved.

"Let's go home, Gil."

Something loosened in his chest then. It wasn't how he had pictured doing this. Their home wasn't what he wanted for her, and it might not all be perfect- gossip was sure to find them soon, and questions would be asked- they might earn the disappointment of their families, and the disapproval of their peers. He knew that he had a long road before him to earn her deepest love. But she placed her hand in his willingly now, and in her grey eyes he could see a confidence in the two of them- in _him_. He turned to help her into the buggy, and held her gloved hand in his securely when he sat down. Jo clicked the reins and they began to move, and he smiled at his bride.

"Let's go home."


	7. Chapter 7, And then there was Evening

**Chapter 7**

Anne Blythe stood nervously on the tiny veranda of the Mushroom, holding her carpet bag in one hand while her husband struggled to extract the key from his pocket. She couldn't help but smile as he placed the bags he carried next to the trunks that Jonas had dropped there, muttering under his breath, and removing what looked like a whistle, random pieces of paper, a pen and a jeweler's bag- for the ring now hiding underneath her gloves, she assumed. Gilbert's hat fell to the step next, and she chuckled.

He looked up, amused. "Not married three hours, and you're laughing at me? What kind of marriage is this?"

Anne blushed, trying to laugh. "One with me, I suppose," she said in embarrassment. "I was just thinking that you always have pockets full of things- even on your wedding day."

He grinned, loosening his tie slightly. "Well, you know me. Ah- now I've got it." He fished the key out from his breast pocket with a sigh of relief. Leaving the bags on the step for the moment, Gilbert took her hand in his and together they stepped over the threshold of their cottage, and he turned to her with a smile that somehow conveyed his own nerves and excitement. "Welcome home, Anne."

If there had been any idea of an entirely romantic homecoming, it was quickly squashed in the effort it took to move Anne's trunks inside the cottage. Together they made an incongruous pair, dressed in their modest wedding finery and carting the large trunks through to the bedroom with comments that were less than polite. Anne was laughing too much to assist Gilbert effectively, and she dropped at least one case on his foot- that one had been full of her bedding. When it was all done, Anne closed out the early winter afternoon with the teeth-jarring sound they would soon become accustomed to, and turned to look into the dark house.

 _Brown_ , she thought dumbly. How on earth could they enliven the walls? How could they bring light, and sunshine and warmth into the dank little house over the coming winter, rumoured to be a severe one? She could hear Gilbert dropping the bags on the floor of their room, and through the doorway she could see him removing the jacket of his light grey suit, his white shirtsleeves visible in the gloom. Her breath caught suddenly. Gilbert needed her to not be weak right now- he was punishing himself enough for the house they were living in. He needed her to be able to manage, to make this a home for them.

Gilbert returned to the living room to find that Anne was still standing in the same place he had left her, and his heart broke at the way she stood frozen. He'd had the same reaction the previous night- he'd battled even that morning, and vaguely understood that he needed to let her process this in her own time. He approached her the way he would a frightened animal- he could see that she was struggling not to cry, and after a brief hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. There was some comfort in the way that her arms tentatively came around him, and he held her for long minutes, rubbing her back soothingly. He could feel the way her breath shuddered against him, and he buried his face in her red hair, waiting for the tears to subside.

Eventually Anne stilled, and pulled herself out of his hold, a hectic flush on her cheeks. She stepped away with a quiet word of thanks, and turned to look around the room curiously. Gilbert almost smiled, seeing her natural optimism begin to peek through.

"Well, we can't exactly change the colour of the walls," she said quietly, and Gilbert grinned.

"No- but it's distinctive. We'll always remember our first home, don't you think?"

Anne chuckled, feeling her breath catching in her throat at the comment. "True. You can only remember the farm, I suppose."

He shrugged. "I was born there- out in the back garden, actually."

Anne paled, and he rubbed his neck sheepishly. " _Seriously_ , Gilbert?"

He gave a wry grin. "Mother does like to tell the story- no doubt you'll hear it all soon enough."

Anne sat down at the table, beginning to laugh. "But- the _garden_?"

He smiled, leaning on the back of the sofa, his hands in his pockets. "I was in a bit of a rush, it seems. Dad arrived home a few minutes later to find me there with mother. Luckily, both of us were well."

Anne merely gaped at him. "I've heard of such things," she admitted, showing none of the usual embarrassment about the facts of life, "However none of the births I witnessed were so dramatic."

Gilbert in turn only stared at her. "Anne? You saw _childbirth_?"

Anne, to his surprise only smiled. "I was a serving girl in two households with more than twelve children between them. That's with three sets of twins, Gilbert. What do _you_ think?"

He seemed to be unable to process this train of thought and looked at the remarkable girl before him. "But you were so _young_."

"I was." She stood then, her face wry. "This is a day of surprises, isn't it? You don't know who you married."

Gilbert looked insulted by this. "I do so. I just don't know everything about you, yet," he protested, following her to the bedroom where she stood in the doorway, her hands on her slender hips. He couldn't help but smile at the brave way she squared her shoulders.

"Did you have a plan for tonight?" she asked, and he moved away, not wanting her to see the look of raw hunger that was no doubt on his face at her innocent question. He moved to straighten the perfectly smooth quilt on the bigger bed and then ruined it by throwing himself face down on it with a deep sigh.

She chuckled, moving to sit on her own bed demurely. "You should _never_ throw yourself on a bed, Gil- it's bad for the supports. Didn't you know that?"

Gilbert's head came up, amused. "Says who?"

"Marilla," she said, her eyes twinkling. "She didn't approve of me flinging myself on my bed in an excess of emotion. And it happened a lot. Like when I got Diana drunk- or when I insulted Mrs Lynde- or when I flavoured Mrs Allen's cake with liniment or Marilla accused me of stealing, or when she cut my hair when I dyed it or you called me Carrots-"

Gilbert struggled upright. "Excuse me?" he said. At her confused look, he chuckled. "I've not heard half of those stories, Anne."

She shrugged, her look mild. "We had plenty else to talk about when we first became friends, Gil. You won't have heard all my tales yet- nor I yours."

He smiled. "Something tells me that we've got time, now. And I actually did have a plan for supper tonight," he admitted sheepishly. "It didn't seem right to just eat and go to bed as normal- not today, anyway."

Anne's cheeks flushed. "Oh."

"So I thought we'd have a picnic supper in front of the fire like we used to do back home."

She nodded, before looking down at the trunks in some chagrin. "That would be lovely. Now, I know I had sheets in here somewhere…"

Gilbert gave the small cupboard and chest of drawers an uneasy glance. "You probably need some time to unpack- did you want me to- er, go out so you can do that?"

Anne's cheeks were fiery, and she gave him a swift nod. She didn't look up as her husband left the room, and for a brief moment she closed her eyes, still reeling in shock that she was in _their_ bedroom. How long would it take for that to become normal? And what would happen when it was?

With a gulp, Anne set to work, not willing to continue the dangerous line of thought. Instead, she turned her mind to the problem of settling into her new home.

She pulled open the chest of drawers, somewhat relieved to see that Gilbert had already unpacked his belongings and left most of the drawers for her. After another few minutes spent wringing her hands in disbelief, Anne shook herself, her eyes showing glints of green in them.

"This won't do," she muttered crossly, moving to the first trunk. "I have _work_ to do."

Twenty minutes later, and the trunks containing her clothing were emptied. She shoved the others under her bed and was pleased to find a small shelf up high in the adjacent room for her hats. She had tried to convince Gilbert that her bed could fit in the tiny space, and scowled for a full three minutes while he mathematically proved that it wasn't possible. Besides, he'd said, he wasn't going to have his wife living in a closet. The room instead would be used for changing privately, and Anne was gratified to find that there was a new sliding lock on both this and the bedroom door. Her relief was short-lived- Gilbert wanted to make her feel safe, however, she would still be sharing a bedroom with him- something that caused great butterflies to rocket through her. She closed and locked the door quickly, hoping that Gilbert wouldn't mind her not explaining what she was doing. She was halfway through changing from her wedding dress, when she stopped, puzzled. Did she need to tell him if she did something? She didn't with the girls. A small part of her rebelled at this thought, and yet she didn't know what was expected.

Anne's eyes suddenly twinkled, as she changed into an older green dress. She couldn't imagine Marilla or Mrs Lynde taking any man into consideration with regard to their daily habits- and besides, Gilbert knew her too well to be swayed by a sudden concern for his opinion. She would just behave as she normally did- and she did need to get out of the pretty but impractical gown. The sooner this marriage began to feel normal, the better.

* * *

That night, Anne and Gilbert sat on Mrs Lynde's red tulip quilt in front of the crooked fireplace as they shared their first meal in their new home. Anne looked around her with eyes that were bright with unexpected emotion, somehow overwhelmed by the simplicity of the moment. Gilbert had been right to do something so normal- and yet it had always seemed like a treat, back when they were teaching. Sometimes Gilbert had come to Green Gables when Marilla had taken the twins out- and a bewildered Anne now realised how unusual that was. Of course, they had done the same at the Blythe farm too- sometimes out in the orchard with a fire, sometimes warm in the sitting room when Gilbert's parents were visiting relatives. How on earth had their elders ever allowed them such leeway?

Anne pushed away the unwelcome certainty that Gilbert's words to her a week ago had been accurate- based on their behaviour, they had indeed had this coming. She turned instead to look at the boy who had been her accomplice for so many years. He had gathered some fruit and cheese, bread and a Polish sausage that Phil had insisted they try. He'd used some of the preserves his mother and Mrs Lynde had sent, and a pat of butter that the landlady had unexpectedly gifted them with that afternoon. She _would_ , she said imperiously, order their milk when she did so for the household- money must be paid to her on Thursdays- and they were to tell her if they required more. Relieved that at least one job could be left to someone else, Anne had nodded thankfully. She had made them tea in the old mugs, and somehow- somehow on this wedding night that was so wholly unexpected, it was _enough_.

Gilbert had been talking easily enough before, but now he lay stretched out on his side as he had done in days gone by. The fire crackled in the hearth before them, and she thought absently that the dark little house almost felt like a cave. He looked up at Anne's thoughtful face, and sighed, reluctant to break the moment.

"So I was thinking," Gilbert said carefully, nudging the arm she leant on. "-that it might be good to establish some basic boundaries with each other."

Anne turned to him, suddenly anxious. "Alright."

He sat up, wiping his hands on his pants nervously. "We give each other space when the other one asks us to."

She only nodded. "We always knock when entering a room." She chuckled then, to his surprise. "Not something the girls ever adhered to."

Gilbert snorted. "Nor Charlie. It's why I refused to room with him when we came to Redmond. I like my privacy, thanks very much."

"And I'll try and give it to you."

He gave her a cheeky grin. "You can't assume I have the same feelings with you, Anne- sharing a room with a pretty girl is _way_ better than Charles."

She repaid his flirtatious tone with a shove that he laughingly dodged. He sobered, then. "I want us to be honest with each other."

Anne blinked in the firelight. "Aren't we always?"

He scowled, then. "Yes. But it's going to be hard until the gossip dies down. The next two weeks are going to be especially difficult. If news gets out too fast, it could make it back to the island before we do- and I'm nervous enough about that. If it doesn't get out fast enough, people will see us arriving and leaving together, and ask why- and I need to know if people are saying things to you that they shouldn't."

Anne drew in a long breath. "Gil, I've weathered gossip before."

He broke a small piece of bread in his fingers, a shuttered look on his face. "Not like this, Anne. Neither of us has faced anything like this."

Anne bent down to look her husband in the eye. "That goes _both_ ways, Gilbert. You can't protect me from everything. You have enough to do."

" _Wrong_ ," he said baldly. "Standing together is the only way we can get through this- but they won't come at us while we're together, will they? Think how Josie used to work."

Anne groaned. "I know. Little asides- asking impertinent things in hope that you'll contradict yourself-"

"And that's just the start of it."

Anne glared at him. "Gil, it is _our wedding day_. Don't make me wish that I'd run away now."

He shuffled closer to her, his hand on her arm in apology. "I'm sorry- I don't want to scare you- or make you regret marrying me. But I can't pretend that it's going to be easy."

Anne huffed. "Well, I know that."

"And that's why I need you to tell me what they're saying to you. It might tell us what we need to do to avoid further gossip."

Anne's grey eyes looked into the fire moodily. "I never cared for gossip, Gil. People were always making comments about me when I was younger- they way I talked, my background- all of the things I did that scandalized folks back home. I had to learn to ignore it, or I wouldn't be _me_. I couldn't let them change me. And now we must bow to the tide of peer pressure-" she broke off when he suddenly moved to face her, his face close to her own in the low light.

" _No_. That's not it, Anne. It's not about bowing to it- it's staying who we are in _spite_ of it. Daniels told us that we needed to keep our heads down for a time- that's strategy, not capitulation." Anne slumped for a moment, her sensitive heart hurting at the thought of disapproval. Gilbert saw the emotion for what it was and shook his head. "No, that's not just semantics. If you can forgive the term, we're playing a long game here. The goal is eighteen months away- although I think we'll have proved something when we return next autumn. We can do this. But I won't have you hurting if I can prevent it- and if it means being gentle as a dove and cunning as a snake, then I'll do it. You have to tell me."

She nodded, outwardly composed. "Then you need to let me be an adult."

To this, Gilbert blinked. "Sorry?"

She sighed, pulling a pin from her hair to rub her scalp, not noticing the lock of soft hair that fell as she did so. "Look, I haven't fought my way through the past twenty years for nothing, Gil. I'm no innocent that needs to be protected from passing butterflies." Gilbert had been sipping a glass of water at that moment and choked on it in his amusement at her sarcasm.

"Anne, I would never think otherwise- not if I want to live, anyway."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Gilbert, I don't want you to save me from things that I don't need saving from. I've been taught to be independent- I couldn't have made it this far without that."

He looked at her, a curiously warm look in his eyes. "Now look here, just who did you think you married? I _know_ this about you. I'm not thinking that you'll dissolve into a clinging mess. You fought me for five years over _one_ insult. You stood in the face of bad teachers, and you stood in front of your own students courageously. You went head to head with the director of Redmond- and you stopped this from being on the school's terms. Yes, we need to toe the line here for a time- but I know who you are. I don't want you to change."

Anne's face was filled with confusion. "Then why are you telling me to come running to you at the slightest sign of trouble?"

He sighed. "I'm _not_ , Anne. But-" he paused, looking at her curiously. " _Interdependence_. Not dependency, not _in_ dependency- you and I together. We have our own strength, but we sometimes need each other's strength too. It doesn't mean you forfeit your own."

She frowned. "Well, that does sound better," she admitted.

"Look, we do it already, Anne. You make me look outside my own head for perspective- and I bring you back down to earth."

Anne couldn't help but exclaim at this, but Gilbert only grinned at her smugly. "Come on, you know it's true."

She muttered something then; Gilbert thought he heard the words " _ridiculously simplistic interpretation_ -" and he chuckled. "We're unique. We're not going to be like Di and Fred- Not that there is anything wrong with their way of doing things," he added hastily. "I only mean that we need to be who we are." He looked at her, his face suddenly grave. "I think we are going to have to be careful who we trust," he said slowly. "Plenty of the wrong sort of people are going to want to know what our story is."

Anne had recovered her poise now and met his gaze frankly. "And we tell them _most_ of the truth. That we are old friends- we respect and care for each other a good deal- and that we decided impulsively that we wished to be married now, rather than waiting until we were finished college. Our families will know soon- and while I agree that it is risky to not write immediately, they would rather hear it from us in person. We can convince them better, that way."

He took her hand and spoke softly. "I want to know whatever they say to you, Anne. I want to know so that you're not trying to carry it alone."

Her fingers tightened on his without conscious thought, and her worried face was close to his own. "Will _you_ tell me everything, Gil?" She saw his hesitation and sighed. "When the wrong sort of men call me hard names to your face and accuse us of sleeping together and covering it up? Will you tell me everything that they say?"

He swallowed, his face shadowed. "I-I wouldn't want to upset you with their words."

Anne reached out to touch his cheek gently, unsure of where her boldness was coming from. "They can't say anything I haven't heard before, Gil," she said sadly. "I know that you don't want to accept that, but it's true."

He turned his cheek into her palm, his eyes closing in pain. "It doesn't make it right, Anne."

"You married Anne Shirley, Gil. That means you get all of me- not just the good things." She pulled her hand away with a deep flush, reminding herself again of the boundary she was most concerned with. "I have something to ask too."

He grinned. "You mean you weren't going to let this be on my terms alone? How disappointing."

Anne didn't laugh. "You said that we needed to slow things down." He nodded, unsure of where she was headed with this. "I was serious when I said that I wasn't ready to be married yet. Can we please take our time with- becoming close right away?"

He frowned. "Anne, I thought that was implied."

"No; _not sleeping together_ was implied," she said in a low voice. He seemed to flinch at her unexpected bluntness and waited anxiously. "I mean- _everything_. You made my first kiss beautiful- and it was appropriate for us to do that, today. I- I wondered if we could put that on hold for a time. I don't want to leap into a physical relationship right now- I want to allow that to grow naturally over time between us."

Gilbert's face was impassive, not wanting to show her how much he had hoped otherwise. He had enjoyed the innocent touches between them- and the fact that he had kissed her twice had made the day one of the happiest he had known. Nevertheless, his father's words came back to him, as he looked into eyes that seemed to be pleading with him to understand. With a lump in his throat, he nodded. "Of course. If that's what you want, Anne."

Her blush was deep, and she swallowed. "I don't want to start something we aren't really ready for- and we have so much to get used to right now- I-"

Gilbert shook his head, summoning a smile. "Anne, it makes sense. Of course, we can wait. I hope it's alright if I can hold your hand, especially when we are out- we'll still need to convince others that we are a couple."

She nodded, flushing. "Of course. If we can't convince everyone, then all this is for nought." She placed a gentle hand on his knee then. "Just for a time, Gil. Then- we can begin properly."

Gilbert seemed to breathe again, his gaze soft. As he studied the slim fingers that rested on him, he sighed. He knew that it would never be as simple as she believed- perhaps she didn't understand that yet. He had never thought of her as younger before- the girl who would go head to head with him in their schoolroom days had seemed to exude a presence as large as his own- she had matched his intellect and curiosity point for point, and not once had she given him the impression that she wasn't keeping up with him. Something twinged in his heart at the enigma of Anne Shirley, now _Blythe_. In some ways she was worldly-wise, and in others- in others, he could suddenly see the difference the years between them made.

"As you wish, Anne. So I kissed you beautifully, you said," he teased, wanting to return them to safer ground. "That's good for the self-esteem, at least."

Anne's eyes twinkled. "It's not like I have anything to compare it to, Gil."

"Ouch!" he exclaimed theatrically, and Anne chuckled.

"Then stop being so smug."

There was a stillness, and for just a moment grey eyes met hazel earnestly. "Sometime?" he whispered.

"Yes." Anne sighed and shyly reached up to pull the rest of the pins from her hair. At Gilbert's startled look, she smiled sheepishly. "It's almost bedtime. We're married now- and we share a bedroom. You're going to see my hair down at some point- and I would rather it be now, when it is under some form of control."

He reached up to brush the loose curl with a smile. "It's soft."

"What did you expect?"

He grinned, offering his own curly head for inspection, and Anne touched it with an amused look. "Well, that's hardly coarse, Gil."

"Nope- but it's not as soft as yours."

Gilbert's clock struck ten then, and he looked over to see his bride suppress a rather large yawn. "Did you want to get ready for bed first?"

At this Anne froze, telling herself to calm down. "Certainly."

He got to his feet and reached for her hands, his eyes burning. "Anne, do you trust me?"

Anne forced herself to breathe in and out and managed a terse nod.

"I mean _really_ trust me," he said heatedly. "Trust that I would never do anything to hurt you- that I would never do anything that you don't want to do. I know this is uncomfortable, and you have to share a room with me- but I promised you that I would choose to put you before anything else in our wedding vows. So I'll ask you again- do you trust me?"

Anne was shaking now, and she nodded, her lips trembling. She saw him relax and realised how badly he wanted her to accept. "You're my best friend. I do." He didn't release her, and she looked up at his face searchingly. "Gil? Will you remember our wedding day happily? You wanted to have good memories."

He smiled down at her, thinking about how lovely she looked, her red hair unwinding in the lamplight. "I will. You were stunning, Anne- and you wore a wedding dress and a veil for me- for _us_. A friend performed the ceremony, and your Kingsport family was around us-"

"Yours as well, now."

"And then we came here, and we started to make this house our home." Anne raised one eyebrow, and he chuckled. "You're here now. That's home enough for me, for now. Anne, I want to thank you," he said self consciously. "I don't take it lightly that you chose to be with me. I'm beyond happy that you did. And I promise you, I'm going to do everything I can to be worthy of your trust." He made to release her, however, she didn't move away from him, her eyes flickering to his mouth as she remembered the ceremony and the breathless moment in her blue room upstairs. She swallowed, unconsciously biting her own lip.

"Anne?"

She tucked her hair behind one ear, her cheeks flushed. "I- I suppose I wondered- I _do_ want us to wait- and I do think we should go slowly- but it's still our wedding day right _now_."

The smile twisted on his face, his eyes bright with mischief, and another emotion she pretended not to recognise. "One more time until later on?"

She nodded, and then his hands cupped her face gently, and he looked into her eyes before pressing a sweet kiss to her parted lips, thrilling at the soft curls that cascaded over his fingers. When he pulled away, he released her and cleared his throat noisily. "Alright. You use the room first. I'll clear this up before I come in."

"Oh, but-"

"No, groom's privilege. Off you go."

She gave him a slight smile, and turned to do as he said. He walked to the kitchen bench, bending over tiredly to place his head down on folded arms. He could hear the sounds of Anne- of his _wife_ \- opening the drawers in their bedroom and closing the small dressing room door, and he exhaled.

" _Eighteen months_ ," he muttered, a self-depreciating grin on his face. "Maybe I should take up jogging."

* * *

Anne and Gilbert's first Sunday together was spent quietly, greatly helped on by a driving rain that blanketed the city. In the forenoon they had breakfast together and spent time reading, and Anne managed to finish an essay that she had fallen behind on in the lead up to the wedding. After lunch they worked on preparing for the week to come, and Anne wrangled the strange stove into producing Marilla's plum puffs for supper that evening. There was quiet laughter and absorbing work, enlivened by some domestic squabbles about where the desk and rickety bookcase should be placed. All in all, it was as normal as a day could be for a couple who had been forced into marriage by a malevolent governing body.

When Monday morning came, after breakfast, Anne took up her satchel from the rusted hook on the wall, waiting silently for Gilbert to put on his coat. He wrapped a scarf around her throat carefully before taking up his own, and the door was wrenched open to a wind that instantly chilled the couple to the bone.

The walk to Redmond was mercifully short, and Anne and Gilbert stood at the iron gates for long moments watching the procession of students milling through the courtyard on the way to their lectures. Somewhere inside Professor Hallett was waiting for the news that the two of them had failed to meet his criteria- and somewhere inside Professor Daniels was hoping to be proved right about his prize student.

Gilbert turned to see Phil, Stella and Priscilla coming up behind them rosy-cheeked and shivering.

"Just in time. We want to ask about your weekend, but perhaps it should wait. You can't be late today." Phil said breathlessly. She seemed to take in the tension of the newlyweds beside them, and eyed them sternly. "We're behind you, you know that," she stated, and Stella and Priscilla moved to flank the couple.

Anne nodded silently, her chin rising.

The girls waited as Gilbert took her hand, and through their gloves, he could feel her fingers tightening on his.

"Are we going in with guns blazing?" he asked quietly.

There was an answering twinkle in Anne's green-grey eyes, and he smiled at her. "Oh, I think so. Boldness is our old friend."


	8. Chapter 8, An Arm and Four Legs

**Chapter 8**

In later years Anne would compare the first week of her marriage to that of being a mouse waiting for an invisible cat to pounce.

Every day, she and Gilbert would rise in the morning to breakfast together, and Anne would wash the dishes while Gilbert split kindling for the evening and did other chores. In the interest of maintaining a low profile at Redmond, the pair left for college earlier than usual, either attending early classes or finding sanctuary in the library. In this way they had avoided the appearance of anything out of the ordinary- however, Anne found herself constantly on the edge of panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Outwardly, Gilbert seemed to be fairly sanguine- at least until a highly strung Anne ordered him to stop drumming his fingers on the various tables and desks they frequented that week. The new husband had not noticed that particular nervous habit of his, however, wisely he tried to stop. Anne checked with him daily to see if anyone had asked him anything- and each day he said they had not. Her own circle remained in ignorance, as far as she knew. Professor Winston congratulated her after class quietly, sending his good wishes to Mr Blythe, and suggesting that her essay could use some further revision.

As a matter of fact, only once did anyone go near the subject of Gilbert with her- when Anne was asked if she was going with him to the Christmas dance. She had been able to reply composedly that yes, Gilbert Blythe would be escorting her- and no, she hadn't a clue what she was wearing yet.

At home was a stress of a different kind. She had been trained in the care of a home by Marilla, and again whenever Mrs Lynde would visit- which had been often. She had been stunned to find that the girls looked to her for guidance on household matters- this, she thought in bewilderment was for the girl who had starched the handkerchiefs and allowed a mouse to drown in pudding sauce? Eventually, she realised that Priss and Stella had both had mothers who ran the household- and with the twins and Marilla's eyesight, more of the responsibility for Green Gables had fallen on her shoulders over the years- teaching her more than any Household Science course could do.

She had been determined not to let Gilbert down so early in their arrangement. She was his wife, she would do what a wife was expected to do. Every afternoon she arrived home from school to don her apron, sweep, tidy and prepare their supper. Schoolwork needed to wait until later in the evening, and by the time Anne went to bed, she was as tired as she could humanly make herself.

Of course, this was only _half_ the problem.

Anne had grown to detest night times.

For the first night as husband and wife, Anne had lain in bed awake for most of the night, terrified to move lest she wake Gilbert with her restlessness- and every sound he made had her bolting up in bed, and muffling a shriek. At about four in the morning, tightly wound and ready to climb the walls with exhaustion, she had actually done it- Gilbert had thrown himself out of bed in a panic, only to run into the screen he had placed by her bed.

Needless to say, it had taken quite some time to settle down again.

When the sun rose on Sunday morning, the couple were curled up on their respective beds, finally in an exhausted sleep after their white night. Anne was the first to wake at almost nine in the morning, and she had not dared to move in case she disturbed Gilbert. She had at first attempted to block out the light and go back to sleep, but then realised that he might wake first- and she didn't like the idea of him finding her sleeping either. After an inordinate amount of too-ing and fro-ing, she had jumped out of her skin as she heard his husky voice had bid her a good morning. He rather sheepishly told her to go ahead and use the dressing room before him, remaining under his own quilts safely until she had left the room.

After a night or two, Gilbert was able to start sleeping again. Each night Anne lay scowling in his direction until the wee hours of the morning, wanting to sock him with a pillow for being able to sleep. gradually, a routine was being formed. Every night in the living room Gilbert would squeeze her hand as he wished her goodnight before they took turns readying themselves for bed. Anne rarely spoke after she entered the bedroom, and Gilbert had followed suit.

Mealtimes had been almost as tense. They had both fallen behind in their schoolwork, and a harassed Anne insisted that now wasn't the time for him to learn to cook- instead, Gilbert was shooed off to the desk in the living room. Anne chopped and prepared with a faintly crazed look as she read her texts and took notes on the windowsill above the bench. She had watched him anxiously to see if he preferred one meal over another, and yet for every meal, he thanked her with the same level of courtesy. What was that supposed to tell her? She found herself debating over meals, remembering that Stella did not like beans, and Davy would not touch carrots. Priscilla would eat almost anything- unless it had been poached.

She didn't have a clue what Gilbert preferred best.

Unconventional though this marriage was, Anne was grimly determined to meet the standards expected of a girl from Avonlea. The two of them would have enough censure to deal with- but they would not be able to criticize her housekeeping.

* * *

By Friday morning, they had agreed that if they were asked now, they would tell people that they were married. The faculty knew, of course- in a further indignity, Anne was asked for proof in the form of the marriage certificate by Professor Hallett, who had only nodded curtly after verifying that it was real. Predictably, Professor Daniels pulled them into his office to reiterate the need for them to remain out of the spotlight.

"Keep your noses clean, and your heads down," he'd said bluntly. "When it comes out, the best thing you can do is appear madly in love, they'll assume you got married in a fit of whimsy. A few simpers and smirks might help- they'll be watching you, Miss Shirley-"

Anne had sat stiffly in his office next to Gilbert, her eyes green. "That's Mrs Blythe, now, Professor."

The older man had waved his hand impatiently over the trifling detail. "They will be watching to see if you appear to be guilty, or in the family way."

Anne's cheeks flushed, however, her voice was steady. "Sir, I would not be continuing my BA if I thought there was a chance I would not finish it. In nine month's time, it will be clear where our priorities are."

He'd given Gilbert a curious glance then, and at the corresponding look of stubbornness on his face decided to not push the point. He turned his attention to Gilbert to talk about the exams to come.

Anne had radiated tension throughout the interview, and once the Blythes were outside Gilbert took her to a secluded place to talk.

"We knew they would be like this."

Anne's eyes smouldered. "That doesn't make it any more palatable. Gil, I don't trust him."

Gilbert pulled her onto the bench beside him. "Who- Hallett?"

She gave him a telling look. "Professor Daniels."

"Look, I know he's blunt-"

"No, he's far too involved in this situation," Anne said angrily. "It's hardly for our good, Gilbert. Phil said that the school will lose the Cooper Prize if someone doesn't win it- it's college politics here, not a real concern for our well-being. I don't like the idea of you being used."

He couldn't help but smile at her over-protectiveness. "Well, neither do I- although his concern has kept us here, albeit on the school's terms."

Anne didn't noticeably relax. "Please, just be careful with him, Gil."

He took both of her hands in his, bending to look at her. "Anne, I swear I will be. What have we said since this started?" He pulled her nearer to him, and despite the seriousness of the situation Anne couldn't help but smile at his earnest look. "It's you and me. You're the only person I trust, right now," he said simply. "I hope you feel like you can trust me too."

There was a moment then when she almost moved toward him, almost reassured him with a touch to his cheek- and she swallowed, remembering where she was, suddenly feeling vulnerable. She cleared her throat and looked up at her husband. "I do."

Gilbert grinned. "Good. Now, come on, Mrs Blythe- we both need to have lunch, and you have a history assessment this afternoon."

"And you have your Greek."

There was a groan then, and Anne stood up with a chuckle. "And you never know- Professor Whitehead may not call on you this time."

"If wishes were horses…."

As they walked together toward the dining room, Gilbert spoke suddenly. "It's nice to be able to spend more time with you. It was something we never really got enough of, before."

Anne looked up at him in surprise. "I suppose not- Redmond kept us too busy. I almost didn't make it to the market yesterday."

Gilbert stirred uneasily, shoving his satchel over his good shoulder. "Did you have enough money to get what you needed? We probably sit down and make sure tonight."

Anne's cheeks likewise showed her embarrassment. "I- I suppose so. I'm still not very sure what to buy- most men do eat more than women."

"The same things as you, I suppose. I've got no complaints."

Anne rolled her eyes, chuckling. "Well, I don't want your mother telling me that you've dropped weight- although perhaps asking for your favourite recipes will cause her to like me more- Diana _swears_ that Fred's mother hated her until she asked her for her shortbread recipe."

"And did she give it over?"

"Dear me, no. But she quite affably told her that she would give her a copy on their wedding day. Di supposed it was as good as she would get."

Gilbert sensed her disquiet, and tucked her free hand through his arm, wincing slightly at the movement. "Well, Mother will give you the moon if you ask for it, I promise. Even with everything else, they'll be happy because it's you."

Anne nodded. "Marilla will be about you, as well."

* * *

That afternoon found Anne once more in the comfortable lounge room at Patty's Place. Aunt Jimsie had welcomed her with a long hug, clucking about her thinness and suggesting that she needed to slow down a little- and to come to her if anything was bothering her. Anne had only smiled as Jimsie tucked her in her favourite chair before she asked after her husband.

Gilbert had suggested that she continue to spend Friday afternoons with the girls. Anne wondered if he had seen the heart-hungry look on her face when the two of them had left Patty's Place the other day- he had simply taken her hand in his own as they drove away, his presence beside her a steadying strength. He himself had classes until five that day and would come by to spend the evening, taking her home with him afterwards. As Anne had hung her coat on the old coat rack, a tiny bubble of fury rose in her at the way she had been forced to leave her home. She guiltily thought of Gilbert then and sighed. Oh, she had much to be grateful for- she could not ask for a better companion, she realised- unless it was the trio of girls now sitting around her with hot tea in their hands, leaning in to hear how her first week as Mrs Gilbert Blythe had gone.

Stella was first to ask, her dark eyes twinkling merrily. "Come on, I bet you have all kinds of juicy details for us by now, Anne-"

She spluttered for a moment, her eyes flashing. "What on earth would make you say that?"

Phil grinned. "Anne darling, this is easily the most exciting thing that we have heard in years- "

At this, Anne's indignation almost rendered her silent. "Phil, Gilbert and I were forced into this-"

Priscilla was on hand then, moving to sit beside Anne. "Anne, sweetie, we know. But you must admit, being forced into this with someone you know and lo-" she broke off then, at the warning look on Phil's face, and changed direction effortlessly. "Like- is a very different thing. You know that Gilbert is honourable, respectful, he works hard and is good company; you know and like each other's families, not to mention that everyone back home has been wanting this to happen for years."

"Not like this they won't," Anne said caustically, nevertheless smiling when Phil offered her a cookie. "I understand it could be worse," she admitted, "and I would never have agreed if it wasn't Gil- or if I didn't think we could work together well."

Phil's voice was droll. "' _Work together'_ ," she said, heroically holding back laughter. "Well, it's a start at least, Anne."

Anne's eyes sparked with green fire, and her chin was high. "Yes. It _is_ a start. And thankfully, we have a very long time to go until this marriage becomes- well, a proper marriage. Our degrees must come first."

To this, Phil pushed herself forward into Anne's line of sight. "Honey, we're just teasing. We were the ones with you when all of this happened, remember? We care about you. We know this will take time. But we wouldn't be _us_ if we didn't push you along a little - we love you too much to do otherwise. You have to talk to us so that we can be there for you."

A tear slipped down Anne's cheek, and she tried to smile. "I know. And you are darlings for standing by us- heaven knows, you could have refused to ever see us again."

Priscilla's scowl was evident. "Don't be ridiculous, Anne. This is university bureaucracy at its finest. They'll see you are backed by your peers- and you know that your professors are behind you."

Anne chuckled, bending to sip her tea. She turned to Stella then, her cheeks colouring. "Well? What do you want to know?"

Stella clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, everything! What is _Gilbert_ like to live with?"

Anne shrugged, her cheeks pink. "I don't really know yet. I think we are both too uncomfortable to be ourselves yet- we've only been in the house for a week."

Phil shuddered. "And I'm coming to help you paint the walls, soon. That muddy brown gives me the shivers."

"It isn't the most inspiring, I admit. Gilbert says that at least we are warm and dry," Anne commented with a shrug.

Stella slyly slipped another cookie towards Anne. "And you really _do_ share a room?"

"You don't really want to know this, do you?" Anne protested, only to be met with impatient cries from every direction. Six bright eyes were on Anne then, and she sighed in defeat, blushing horribly. "You'll see when you come to visit us, anyway. There is one proper bedroom, and a room that makes Phil's nook look like a palace." Anne rubbed her forehead tiredly. "We decided that it would make a decent changing room. The washstand is in there too." She closed her eyes then. Her bed was as far as possible from his- underneath the window in the far corner. She kept her eyes averted from the girls, somehow unwilling to divulge how uncomfortable it made her, no matter how much of a gentleman her husband had been.

Priscilla gazed at her, her blue eyes wide. "I can't believe you are sleeping in the same room as _Gilbert Blythe_!"

"He has put up a screen," Anne said faintly. "He- he doesn't snore, at least."

At this, the entire room broke out in giggles, and slowly Anne began to unwind. She even laughed when Priscilla asked if he was a morning person. She smiled, depreciatingly. "Neither of us are, right now- although I think that has more to do with not sleeping soundly. We are used to being alone at night, after all." This prompted another set of squeals, and Stella sat back, her look wicked. "And have you _seen_ anything of him, yet?"

Anne choked on her tea at this, making the others laugh. " _Seen him_?"

"Yes," the incorrigible Stella said impishly. "You are in close proximity to the man that everyone at Redmond wants, universally proclaimed the most handsome fellow on campus, not to _mention_ your close friend; and I find it very hard to believe that a small house could conceal the two of you from each other all the time-"

Anne wiped her streaming eyes. "Well, so far, we _have_ managed to- although I am relieved this happened in the winter. No flannel nightgown made by Mrs Lynde would leave an inch of flesh visible."

Phil rolled her eyes. "Remind me to get you some new nightgowns for your birthday, then- not to mention his."

"So you mean you haven't seen _anything_?"

Anne sat up then indignantly. "No! And surely you wouldn't expect me to tell you if I _did_!"

Stella gave a dismissive wave. "Anne darling, I have two married sisters and Priss has one- I've heard everything before. And I am purely interested in an academic sense- I am planning to marry a man myself, one day."

Anne laughed then, a strangely protective expression on her face. "Well, as this is my husband we are talking about, I think I should respect his privacy."

Stella nodded, her face sobering. "Truly, I would expect no less of you, Anne." A wicked smile crossed her face then. "Will you at least tell us when project Baby Blythe comes into effect?"

 _"Stella!"_

* * *

Gilbert helped Anne on with her coat that night, doing his best to ignore the hot blush on her cheeks as they said goodbye to their friends. He reached for his own coat and scarf, smiling as Aunt Jimsie announced that the Blythes would be joining them for Sunday luncheon. Soon they were walking down the stairs together in the cool evening, the fresh wind pushing them together for warmth. He looked at Anne, her lovely face tipped up to study the sky.

"Did you have a nice afternoon?" he asked softly, and was rewarded when she smiled.

"I did. Thank you for suggesting it, Gil- I miss them terribly."

His smile was understanding. "I know you do."

Anne looked across at him, a small smile on her face. "The girls are very curious, you know."

He looked at her warily. "Oh?"

"They seem to view us like one of those serials you read in magazines."

"You mean, ' _What will happen next to the unfortunate but handsome young couple?'_ " Gilbert commented, his eyes twinkling.

"Exactly. They want to know a lot more than I would rather tell them, to be honest." Anne's face was a study, and she slipped her gloved hands into her pockets with a shiver. "You are the first man who has come into our little family."

Gilbert almost missed a step at the reference, and he couldn't help but smile. "So I'm really part of the family now?"

Anne chuckled, her breath visible in the cool night air. "They love you, Gil. Of course you are."

He looked at her, intrigued. "And what about you? Am I family to you, yet?"

He saw her blush and held his breath. "I don't see you as a brother- and I don't think you would want to view me as a sister."

Gilbert stopped cold, as he digested her words. "You don't think I ever did that, do you?"

She seemed to flinch from him then. "I- I don't know."

He stopped, waiting for her to turn to him. "I've _never_ seen you as a sister, Anne. My fiercest competition- sometimes my harshest critic- but to be honest, my favourite person in the world." Anne stopped now, her bewildered grey eyes on him. He took her hand and smiled. "And there's no one else I'd rather do this with," he said seriously, and she laughed.

"Nor I."

Within minutes the pair arrived at home, and after shedding her coat Anne moved swiftly to add wood to the stove to boil the kettle. She didn't look up from the tea tray when Gilbert stepped out to the outhouse with the lantern, only turning some minutes later when he called her.

"Err- Anne?"

She turned to see him standing at the front door, an odd look on his face.

"Gil, you goose, you're letting the cold air in."

He scratched his head in bemusement. "Would you come here, Anne? You- err, have a delivery."

Anne moved to the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, and stopped in comical dismay at the unmistakable cat on the doorstep.

"Rusty?" With a leap, he was in her arms, and Anne cuddled her pet instinctively. "However did you even find us, old fellow?"

"He must have followed us home- and we didn't notice a thing."

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "He is awfully good at that. I can't take him back tonight, can I?"

Gilbert shut the door firmly. "Not on your life. It's not fit for man nor beast out there. Will they worry at home?"

Anne shook her head, placing the cat down cautiously to survey the cottage. He took a wide berth around Gilbert and moved to sit by the fireside, beginning to wash his face as if he hadn't walked across Kingsport in the wintertime.

Gilbert grinned. "Now _that_ feels homelike. Do you think he'll stay with us?"

Anne shrugged. "He is a one-person cat, so to speak. He adopted me- I don't suppose I had much choice, really." She smiled then, the familiar sight of him warming. "You're right- it might be rather nice to have him here, Gil."

Her husband's arms were folded, and he looked at Rusty with some suspicion. Rusty was not fond of anyone but Anne- he'd not made much headway getting to know the prejudiced animal in the past year. "And where does he usually sleep?"

Anne's grey eyes twinkled in the lamplight. "In my room, of course, Gilbert. And where will you sleep?"

Later that night, Gilbert lay in bed stubbornly awake. Anne's side of the room was silent, so he assumed she was finally asleep- and he could hear Rusty purring from the braided mat beside her bed. He couldn't help smiling. For all Anne's initial ambivalence about the feline race, Rusty had certainly laid his claim on her- although he doubted that the cantankerous beast would recognise his right to Anne's company anytime soon. Gilbert had offered him milk and some left-over meat from his dinner, hoping to earn some trust- but no. Rusty had clearly not wanted to take anything from him- a different story when Anne herself had passed it to him. The coquettish look the redhead had given him then was one he had never seen before- a look that made him want to spring to her side and kiss her senseless. He shifted in bed uncomfortably, needing to change the direction of his thoughts.

Besides, perhaps there was something in his mother's assertion that cats made a household a home. He'd been pleased to see Anne beginning to relax as they sat before the fire that night, albeit with Rusty on display cleaning himself in a rather undignified manner.

Fine. If the cat made Anne happy, then the cat would stay.

For himself, he let out a soft sigh. In another week they would travel home and break the news to their families- to their relief, Charlie was still bed-ridden and miserable, and so hadn't heard a thing. Gilbert felt slightly guilty about that and had taken him some books- only to be met with a foul-tempered and gruesomely-spotted Sloane who berated him for not coming earlier, and for not changing his plans to escort him back to Avonlea when he was cleared to do so. After a few minutes of his company, Gilbert fled the sickroom, thanking his stars that he and Anne had booked their passage home earlier. Anne had confessed to some strangeness in not making her plans with the girls, and while Gilbert understood her hesitation, he knew that they would need to start viewing things as a married couple instead. He had suggested instead that they try to coordinate with the girls for their return date at least.

He sighed, trying to punch his pillow into shape again. Subterfuge wasn't his strong suit- and Gilbert was finding himself in an odd place with Anne now. Weep with those who weep, the Bible said- and so he needed to keep the joy that bubbled up in his heart under wraps for the time being. Anne was grieving, he had realised, and trying to keep it from him. Only, of course, she was as bad at lying as he was. He found had to work to keep the look of delight off his face- seeing her working across from him at the kitchen table, in her white apron at the bench cooking for them, her red curls coming out of the braid she wore in the evenings, and the fleeting glances of her in her robe at bedtime- not to mention the quiet sounds of her breathing near him through the night. If it wasn't for the looming scandal, uncertain future, the threat of parental disapproval and a shoulder that was not healing quickly, he would be almost perfectly happy.

* * *

As per Avonlea custom, on the second Sunday following their wedding Anne and Gilbert attended church together, drawing a few curious glances. The minister had waylaid them at the door to offer his patronising congratulations, and to her consternation, Anne had been invited by his angular wife to join the Kingsport Presbyterian Women's Auxiliary- only _married_ women were invited, she had told her virtuously. Anne could see Gilbert's smirk behind the august couple, and she somehow found her voice, saying that she would perhaps see after the Christmas break.

More worryingly, a group of girls from the younger classes at Redmond had hovered nearby as Anne and Gilbert talked with Aunt Jimsie after the service. They had whispered and giggled together, and one brazen lass had approached Gilbert asking if him there was any _news_ he would like to share. He had only doffed his hat with a breezy smile, and returned to Anne's side promptly, his hand covering the golden ring on her left hand.

He uneasily thought that they were in a no-man's land right now- it was better for people to not know just yet- and yet the odd looks he had been getting from the young men at the boarding house when he collected the mail made him increasingly nervous.

When he had discussed this with her, Anne had only nodded. Only one person had worried her- there was a furtive, triumphant look on Claire Hallett's face whenever she caught Anne's eye- and she had found herself wondering uneasily what she was waiting for.

That night the two of them had gone over contingency plans while Rusty- who had not returned to Patty's Place- paraded a mouse that he had caught earlier in the day. Gilbert's books lay beside him, unheeded for the time, and he lay his head back on the sofa tiredly. Anne's bread and butter pudding had been delightful, and after she had finished in the kitchen she sat down on her usual chair, a familiar text in her hand- a battered copy of the Household Guide his mother had favoured.

"Where did you get that?"

She smiled, sitting back in the chair. "Mrs Lynde insisted that I bring it back with me when we moved into Patty's place a year ago."

"Not- _ahem_ \- your usual sort of textbook."

She chuckled then, not seeming to take offence. "No- it is useful, though. I was looking for some of Marilla's old recipes, and I came across the medical section."

Gilbert grinned. "Wanting to follow me to medical school?"

Anne turned her pretty nose up at him teasingly. "If I went, you might be following _me_ , Mr Blythe. I'm fairly certain you had to work hard to beat me."

"I did."

Anne opened to a sketch of an arm in a sling. "Gil, when was your shoulder last checked?"

Gilbert blinked. "It's been a fortnight, Anne. I'm alright."

"Doctor Edmonds said that you needed to keep a sling on for that period- and with everything else, I completely forgot what began this."

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's fine, Anne."

She gave him a shrewd look and went to pass him the book- on his left side. She watched him attempt to reach out to take it, however after a moment he scowled. "Fine. I can't lift it up yet."

She moved to sit beside him. "You know, I'd never thought to question the way that you are doing things right now- I don't suppose I ever watched how you put on a coat before. I noticed it this afternoon."

"I'm flattered that you're paying such close attention-"

Anne glared at him. "Gil, how have you been cutting the wood outside? Did you not think to ask me to help?"

"Like you won't let me help you in _here_?"

"That's _different_! I'm not injured!"

She made to touch his shoulder, and he moved away, attempting to placate her. "Anne, it's fine- Mrs Whitley gave me a pot of something odd to rub into it, I just wasn't bothering with it yet."

Anne rolled her eyes, unbuttoning her cuffs to roll up the sleeves of her blue flannel shirtwaist. "And can you reach your shoulder?"

"Well, not _all_ of it-"

She stood up, her look stern. "Just get the liniment, Gil. You said you had a good chance of being able to play again if it healed properly."

"I _did_ , but-"

"Mr Harrison had a similar injury with a fall from his horse- he rarely uses his right arm when lifting, you'll notice. Mrs Harrison came to consult with Mrs Lynde about it."

"Who naturally is the centre of all wisdom," Gilbert muttered, getting up to walk into the bedroom. "Anne, what does that have to do with me?"

He sat down on his bed to search through the drawers and looked up when Anne sat beside him, a sober look on her face.

"You knew it was more serious than a bruise from the beginning," she said. "I'll never forget the look on your face when you first saw it. I know we've been busy with the wedding and college, but if you don't take care of it, it could end up being a lifelong injury- and twenty-three is awfully young, to begin with a handicap like that."

"Fine. I'll put it on," he mumbled. "It just smells like the liniment I used to have to rub on Dad's back."

Anne stilled. Gilbert didn't often talk about John Blythe's illness, she'd noticed. She took the tub from him, assuming a matter-of-fact tone. "Well, it's for your muscles now. If you take off your shirt, I can reach the rest."

" _You're_ going to do it?" he blurted out.

She flinched when she felt his stunned look on her, and wouldn't meet his hazel eyes. "Well, you can't reach it, can you?" She halted then, with a short sigh. "You got hurt without me. But everything in your life got complicated when I came into it- the least I can do is see that you can move your arm a little." She unscrewed the lid and tried to not look at him slowly undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. "Your father had consumption, didn't he?"

"Tuberculosis," Gilbert grunted, stiffening as he felt her fingers on his now bare shoulder. "We took him out to Alberta- there was a kind of farm there that doctors would send patients to. Ma went back to the island to look after the farm then."

Anne's cheeks were red, and she kept her eyes on the still colourful bruise. She gently started to work the liniment in, deciding that it was best to keep him talking. "You were only ten, then, I think."

He snorted, trying not to react to the pain. "I spent three years out there- it was supposed to only be one, but the doctors kept extending the time. They were worried he wasn't healing fast enough."

"And I suppose if he'd come back too soon-"

"He'd have worked his way into an early grave, yes. By the third year, he made them let him do some work here and there- he had us repairing the cottage we lived in. It smelled of the liniment."

Anne smiled. "I suppose it would." There was silence for a time, and Gilbert flushed at her nearness. She stood over him carefully, her long, red braid dangling in front of him as she worked on the back of his shoulder. "Do you need to wear the sling again?"

He frowned. "It would look odd if I started wearing it again."

"Not that anyone but me is paying attention," Anne pointed out drolly. She straightened up at his evident sigh of relief, vexed at the way her cheeks heated. "I used to do this long ago," she said softly. "There were children at the orphanage who were crippled. The matron never had time to care for them- so I had to rub their legs from time to time." She put the lid on carefully, pretending not to see the wide-eyed look on her husband's face. "Well, that should do for tonight. If you want to get changed first, I'll go and tidy up for a while before I come to bed."

Gilbert took her hand as she went to go. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything- cooking, cleaning- for _this_. For just being here."

She nodded, and closed the door behind her, pausing to lean her forehead against the wall. She closed her eyes, suppressing a groan. She had been so adamant that they needed boundaries- so why had she suggested something that had both of them so vulnerable all of a sudden? Would things between them continue to change so swiftly? She couldn't be ready for that- she _wasn't_. With an effort, she moved to the kitchen, where Rusty prowled around the saucer of milk Gilbert had placed down. She placed the dishes in the washing up bowl, taking the hot kettle to add to the water there.

Anne worked steadily, her pale face troubled. The lines were not as simple as she had believed they would be. Should she have left Gilbert's arm? She shuddered then, remembering the way he had grimaced as he put on his coat. No, it had to be alright- it had been necessary. She would just make sure to keep a closer eye on him in the future- already she could tell that he was favouring his right arm by instinct.

By the time she readied herself for bed, she crossed the room wondering if Gilbert was asleep. When she was safely behind her screen, she called out a soft goodnight, not really expecting an answer. His voice came back instantly, and she smiled, before slipping between her covers, after dislodging Rusty from her bed. She exhaled quietly, then.

One day at a time.


	9. Chapter 9, The Scarlet Thread

**Chapter 9**

There was a knock at the door early on Monday morning, and Anne answered it to greet their stern landlady. "Mrs Blythe, your milk."

Anne thanked her as she took the bottles, and the older woman stood in the doorway with hands clasped sternly. "You've made this quite nice looking inside, I must say. I do favour brown- it goes with everything."

To this, Anne could only nod, a suspicious twinkle in her eyes. Gilbert came out of the bedroom then buttoning his cuffs, and paused courteously to greet Mrs Whitley. After a moment she made her exit, reminding them that they needed to have their grocery order to her by Wednesday.

As she left, Gilbert came to Anne's side. "What grocery order?" he asked, bewildered.

She handed him a cup of coffee and shrugged. "For someone determined to not wait on us, she's being very helpful. She asked me yesterday if I would like to place our orders with hers- it would save on delivery, apparently."

He nodded. "Will you do it?"

Anne smiled tiredly. "It would be one less job through the week, I suppose. I need to figure out if I can bake the bread in the afternoons as it is- Saturday is wash day after all."

Anne's acquaintance with Mrs Whitley had been growing steadily. On the Saturday following the wedding, Anne had taken up her basket of dirty clothes and stood at the front door to the cottage in indecision. She had been told that the laundry was unlocked from six in the morning- but that she mustn't interfere with the linen wash on Thursdays. She moved to unclench her hands. This was an opportunity, of sorts, she thought, her chin lifting. A chance to learn about her new environment- and to have it learn about her. As she walked down the pathway, wet with the previous day's rain, she looked up to see the fir trees that ran between the apartments. A red-breasted robin bounded from branch to branch, his brown feathered wife hopping behind him docilely. As Anne turned to the back of the boarding house, a sudden thought made her smile wickedly. It was she who was the red-head- Gilbert knew that well. He would expect no such meekness from her.

When she hesitantly opened the back door, she was hit with a thug of warm, steamy air. There was a confusion of sheets hanging off temporary lines, the smell of hot soap and wet linen, the stoves bubbling along the wall merrily. The door to the rest of the house opened then, and the older woman came bustling through.

"There you are, Mrs Blythe," she said briskly, not noticing the involuntary flinch Anne gave at her name. "I thought you'd have been in days ago."

Anne's cheeks coloured guiltily. Surely she could not be considered a terrible housewife so soon. She'd asked Gilbert through what felt like splinters in her throat if he had any washing he needed her to do- he had looked nearly as uncomfortable, saying that he would take care of it later. Perhaps it was cowardly of her to flee the house so quickly after that, although she distinctly thought she heard him groan as the door closed behind her.

Somewhat rattled, Anne tried to smile. "I have early classes through the week, Mrs Whitley. My housemates and I found that Saturday was the best time for us to get our laundry done."

"Just as you like, then. I'm out here every day except Sunday. You can use that empty bench over there."

Anne was thankful to see a tub standing ready, not for the first time thankful that Marilla had drilled her so thoroughly regarding the care of her clothes. With aching arms, an hour later she had a second load boiling on the stove and had turned her attention to hanging out the first outside. There was a small clothesline outside the cottage, and Anne stood in the winter sunshine looking around her wistfully. There were faded garden beds, and a tree beside the house- would it be one she could make friends with? Could they sit under it with books, imagining that they were once more in the Haunted Wood, and life was simple and sweet again?

Anne deposited her basket back in the laundry and was startled when Mrs Whitley came behind her to peer over her shoulder. "That needs another half an hour, Mrs Blythe. Suppose we have a cup of tea in the meantime."

Anne's eyes widened, however, she nodded in some confusion, and seeing the older woman remove her apron, she did likewise. She followed the lady into the main part of the house, trying to smooth down her blue work dress and the red wisps of hair, now curling madly from the steam in the laundry. She glanced in astonishment at the long, brown halls that Gilbert had once described for her, the dining room where the young men would gather morning and night, and into a smaller parlour at the front of the house.

"Sit you down, Mrs Blythe, I'll have a tray ready for us in a jiffy."

* * *

An hour later, Gilbert came out to meet her at the back door and took her basket. "You were gone for awhile," he commented easily.

Anne followed him with a smile. "I was ordered to have tea with Mrs Whitley. I don't believe it was a request."

He grinned. "Probably not. How do you like her?"

As Anne began to peg her washing on the line, she saw Gilbert turn to avert his eyes from her clothing, his cheeks flushing. She gave herself a little shake, reminding herself that this would need to become normal for them. "I believe our landlady is a kindred spirit, Gil- she asked how we both were, she told me about her family and had some suggestions on managing the cottage's work better. We had a lovely tea in her parlour."

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "Good heavens, Anne, no one is ever allowed in that room. I should have known that only you could win her over so quickly."

Anne smiled. "I think she likes the idea of another woman around the place, Gil."

Once they were done, they walked around the front of the cottage with the empty basket. Gilbert stepped over the broken steps with a frown. "I won't have time before we go home- but I was thinking that I might bring some tools back with me. I can start to fix the place up a bit- make the stove stop whistling, for instance."

Anne pretended to be shocked. "You have tools, Mr Blythe? I should have thought that beneath an academic man."

Gilbert snatched the basket from her with a good-natured scowl. "Come on, I was a farm boy before I ever became a scholar. Who do you think got sent out to do the farm-hand jobs? We didn't have a Martin."

"Well, we didn't have a Matthew," Anne said quietly.

Gilbert dropped the basket as soon as the door closed behind Anne, turning to wrap his wife in his arms tightly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me."

For a moment she let him hold her, thinking distractedly that it felt _right_. She was slightly bewildered by the terms of endearment that Gilbert had begun to adopt- had he always been this way? She had never noticed the affectionate nature of the boy who lived next door. Of course, she supposed that his father had always been like that- when she spent any time at Gilbert's house she had often seen John Blythe kissing his wife, or sitting with an arm around her comfortably. She couldn't help but smile now, nestled as she was in Gilbert's arms, thinking guiltily that she didn't really mind. It was a traitorous thought indeed, but it was- _nice_ \- to belong to someone again.

* * *

This comfort was miles away by Monday evening. Anne stood in the annexed room alone, her eyes wide in horror. The red spot on the clothing in her hand was evidence enough, and she held back a whimper. In all of the furore she had forgotten to anticipate this, and she now felt the urge to scream rise in her throat. It was too soon for her to have to deal with her period here- she didn't _want_ this- she should have been curled up safely in her blue room, where she had privacy and comfort and hot tea _and she lived with other girls!_

Somehow, Anne pulled herself together. She mechanically cared for the soiled clothing, making sure that she was prepared for the rest of the week- and she would make sure that there would be no further surprises. She moved out to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and sat at the dining room table, staring blankly out of the tiny windows. Eve's curse, Mrs Lynde had called it- and Anne was miserable enough right now to see why. How could she take care of this in privacy if she now shared her bedroom with him? They were friends, but they had never spoken of such things- it simply wasn't done.

That night, Anne forced herself to move through her coursework sluggishly, closing her eyes every now and then to try and ease the ache in her temples. Sickly, she thought that she would have liked someone- anyone to pat her head, to mother her a little. Big tears welled up in grey eyes then, tears that she fought valiantly. She didn't need this right now- she wouldn't have anyone thinking that she couldn't handle things. At nine o'clock she gave up the attempt to study in disgust and took herself to bed.

The day could not be over soon enough.

* * *

Several hours later, a miserably awake Anne heard Gilbert's footsteps coming up the path, and the sound of the key being turned in the lock. She huddled under the bedclothes as she heard him moving around the house for a time, talking with a recalcitrant Rusty and no doubt placing another log on the fire. After a few minutes, the door opened softly, and she could hear him pulling clean clothes from the drawer, and the sound of the other door closing. Anne cringed, hoping that she had taken care of everything as well as she could- he mustn't know. Although, why should he know anything? Gilbert hadn't grown up with sisters.

In a short time, she heard him walk back into the room again, and there was a moment of silence where she lay tensely, wondering if he had discreetly checked on her- she knew that he did so from time to time, reassured to know that she was sleeping safely. After another moment he fell onto his bed with a deep sigh, and Anne held herself stiffly until eventually, the sound of his breathing steadied. She turned back toward the wall as silently as she could, and for almost an hour she lay in frozen misery. At last, fed up with the lack of sleep and the discomfort, she slipped out of bed and noiselessly left the room, her robe in one hand as she closed the bedroom door behind her. After a chilly trip to the outhouse with a lantern, Anne shut the door to the outside world and went to place the kettle over the still-warm stove, bending to stroke her pet, who had taken to sleeping in the wood box behind the stove. She then sat down to watch the fire, her grey eyes stormy.

How on earth did married women manage this without their husbands knowing? Who was there to ask? Anne shivered, clenching her jaw to keep it from trembling. The swirling anger and anxieties were threatening to drown her, and she held onto self-control, desperately trying not to let her tears fall. Phil had often teased her that the whole household could tell when it was her time of the month- the last thing she needed to do was to draw attention to her fragile state. Gilbert would only worry- and she did _not_ want to be coddled.

Moving around the small kitchen, Anne was fixing a small plate of food when she heard the floor creak behind her, and let out a shriek, the plate dropping as she jumped away from the looming presence behind her.

"It's _me_ \- it's just me," her husband of ten days said quickly, grabbing her wrist. "Anne, what are you doing up so late? I thought you were asleep."

She pulled away from him then, all the self consciousness from before now standing between them. "I just fancied a cup of tea."

Gilbert stooped to pick up the plate, and rubbed his eyes blearily. "I might join you, if you don't mind- I didn't get time for dinner tonight."

Feeling as if it would be churlish now to tell him that she had changed her mind, Anne set another cup on the tray, moving silently to get the sugar for his tea. He had taken it the same way since their teaching days- days in which many had speculated that the two of them were bound to end up together. This reflection did not help Anne's mood, and when she sat down it was in the furtherest corner of the sofa, a cushion self-consciously placed on her lap.

Gilbert, who had never been a casual observer of Anne now watched her with a slight frown. That she was not feeling the best was immediately obvious- but as a husband of just over a week, he wasn't sure how to go about addressing the issue. At the moment she was so tense that he thought anything could shatter her- and as long minutes stretched in uncomfortable silence, he thought uneasily that it may be just what she needed.

"Did anyone say anything to you today?"

Anne's head flew up, and she clutched her tea cup instinctively. "No- did anyone say anything to you?"

He seemed to flounder, then. "No- Professor Daniels caught up with me today, he asked how you were. He sends his regards."

Anne's face tightened, and she nodded stiffly.

"Anne?" She turned back to him, her grey eyes icy- and yet there was a pain in her expression that broke his heart. "Anne- what's troubling you?"

To this, she gave a tight laugh. "Well, as the woman who ruined Gilbert Blythe's academic career-"

Gilbert bit back an angry exclamation, gripping her hand. "Don't say that!"

She seemed to rein herself in, then, and to his frustration, she drew in a deep breath, and shook her red head with a forced calm. "You're right. I'm sorry. Forgive me for being so sullen."

He got down on his knees in his striped blue pajamas now, his hands gently on her arms. "This isn't fooling me, you know. Please, tell me what's upset you."

His compassion was becoming too much for Anne, and she swallowed convulsively, not wanting to break down now. "If I start, I won't stop, Gil. We have classes in the morning- we need sleep-"

"It's not weak to admit that everything isn't alright. You need to let it out," he said bluntly. Her brow tightened, and he could see her fighting to restrain her tears. Suddenly, the memory hit him of how she had been in the months after Matthew died, and he tightened his grip on her hands, his look desperate. She needed to break.

"Stella told me that Phil cried on the first night you were gone."

Anne's eyes flew open in hurt, and she stared at him for a moment. "Gilbert- _why_ \- why would you-"

"I'm worried about our finances next year; I'm worried that we've missed something," he stated, making her freeze. "Oh, and by the way, Charlie Sloane is moving into this boarding house. Just a few yards from our front door." A tremor seemed to shake her then, and he watched her swallow hard. "And I'm going to grow a moustache."

He held his breath when enormous, grey eyes turned to him, and then suddenly, Anne's face crumpled in misery, and she curled into a ball as great sobs began to shake her slim form. After a startled moment, Gilbert gently pulled Anne into his arms, holding her as he stroked her hair back from her face. She had turned her cheek to nestle against him, and his heart clenched, even as his voice was soft.

"It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright-" he murmured.

 _"You just said that it didn't have to be alright!"_

He chuckled guiltily and nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry." For long minutes he held her as she cried, deeming it wiser to remain silent while she was so upset. When the tears began to abate a little while later, he used his sleeve to wipe her wet cheeks awkwardly, bending down to look into her swollen face. He was pleased that she didn't move away, and he pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

Anne sighed then, oddly comforted by the sweet gesture. "That was _mean_ , Gilbert."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was afraid that you would be sick if you kept holding it in." He chuckled then, smoothing her wet hair from her face. "I can't believe the moustache broke you. I won't do it if you hate the idea."

Anne scowled at him. "And your mother will hate it even more. And what about Charlie?"

"Sadly, that bit is true," Gilbert said reluctantly. "He's been wanting this boardinghouse for years- closer to the college, and it's cheaper, too. Moody told him I'd moved out, although he didn't say why, and he wrote to secure his place. I found out when I was getting the mail."

She gave a slight hiccup, and he left her side to get her a glass of water. He sat back down beside her then, his look gentle. "You scared me. I haven't seen you like that for a long time."

Anne shook her head, more tears flooding into her eyes. "Gilbert, I don't know how else to _do_ this."

"Do what?"

" _Everything_! The washing and cooking and sharing a room- I don't know _how_ to be a Mrs Blythe! Your mother makes it look so easy!" she sobbed, and he coughed, trying not to smile.

"Well- she's had a fair bit of practice," was all he trusted himself to say.

"And our meals are late because we get home so late, and I haven't had time to bake and I should have changed the sheets by now only there has been no chance to do it, and I can't sleep because you are sleeping in the same room as me, and I haven't shared a room with anyone since I lived at the orphanage!" She tried to catch her breath, blinking eyes that were bleary with hot tears. "Gil, I don't know how to be a student and a wife- I'm not like Di, I won't do this naturally!"

Gilbert frowned. "Anne, no offense to Diana, but all she does is tend house under her mother. What makes you think she could do what _you_ do?"

She pulled away then, her voice shaking. "I don't know what I need to _be_ -"

"Hold on there, I need you to be _you_ -"

"And what kind of wife is that, Gilbert?" she shot back angrily. "Like Mrs Lynde? Denying her husband an opinion on everything, and controlling him? Or like Mrs Thomas, saying yes to everything to stop him from hurting the children? Do I tell you everything like I used to? Or do I need to hide things from you like Ruby's sisters do to their husbands? Or perhaps I could be like Mrs Barry, who doesn't talk to her husband at all if she is angry? _I didn't have a family like this._ "

Gilbert carefully reached out to take her hands, shifting closer to her. "Anne, we've never been like everyone else back home, why would we start now?"

Anne's head bowed in defeat. "I'm not ready for this. And we have to go home in a week and convince everyone that this was a good idea."

He sighed, tentatively cupping her cheek in his palm. "Anne, honey, I'm not ready for this either." She looked up at him in horror, and he gave her a tortured smile. "I never expected to be a husband this soon. I don't have a clue what I'm doing. My dad was forty years old when he married mother- I thought I'd be older- _smarter_ -"

To his relief, she snorted then. "Smart is not usually one of your problems, Mr Blythe," she said thickly.

"And since when were other people's expectations _yours_?"

Anne sighed, hunting for a dry spot on the handkerchief that Gilbert handed her. "Since you and I found ourselves _here_. We are precisely where we are because of people's expectations."

"Well, that ends now." He saw the obstinate look on her face and frowned. "Whatever we do outside the house for the sake of appearance, inside this house we need to be us. No pretending to be alright when we aren't. They can't be allowed to affect us in here." He squeezed her hand, then, his face tender. "It's just you and me now, Anne. And I'm not sorry. Some of my best times were when it was just you and I together, you know."

Anne looked up at him with a faint smile, pushing her red braid behind her. "And mine."

"Then let's just be those people," he said firmly. "We'll figure the rest out in time, I promise." Settling back beside her, he smiled, seeing how close she was to his side. He took a piece of bread and butter from the forgotten plate, eying her curiously. "You never did tell me what happened today."

Anne's cheeks coloured. "It's nothing-" she saw a reserved look pass across his face, and sighed impatiently. "Gilbert, nothing happened. I was a little unwell, and I was little upset-"

"How were you unwell?"

"It- it isn't important."

Gilbert frowned at her, uncomprehending. "What upset you, then?"

"Nothing, I was just _upset_!"

He folded his arms stubbornly. "Anne, we need to start talking like a married couple. I can sit here all night, if you can. "

At this, Anne exhaled loudly. "Gilbert, do you know anything about women?"

Gilbert froze warily. "In what sense?"

The fiery green glint was in her eyes, and her words were enunciated carefully. " _Biologically_ , Gilbert."

Anne was glad to see that he was slightly rattled now. Her earlier shame had fled in his confusion, and recklessly, she decided that he was bound to find out sometime- he did plan on being doctor, after all- better to hear it from her now.

"I- er- academically speaking, yes-"

"Then I suggest that you review your extensive notes from your first semester at Redmond, and see if you can figure out a _biological_ reason why your wife has had a very trying day today, and why she might expect another few trying days after this one. And why it will happen all over again in approximately _one months' time._ "

She could see the moment the truth hit him- and he gave a bark of laughter that he immediately apologised for, his hand coming up to ruffle his brown hair sheepishly. "Heavens, Anne, I- I never even thought about that. I'm sorry."

Anne's anger deflated. "Well, I- I didn't _want_ you thinking about it."

Gilbert smoothed the fabric of his pajama pants over his knees, his face brick red, and Anne flinched, wondering what he was thinking. "So- so that's now." Anne's cheeks flushed, and she wondered if he would have more questions. Sure enough, Gilbert's brow soon lowered in thought. "I didn't think it made you unwell."

"Well, a textbook would hardly cover that, would it?" Anne scoffed. "Especially as it was written by a man."

"Come on, they must do _some_ research-"

To his surprise, she laughed slightly. "Not nearly enough, Gilbert."

He turned to her then, some of his shyness abating. "So what do I need to do?"

"Just don't poke the bear," she grumbled, and then found herself laughing again at the look on his face. Somehow, Anne began to forget that they were in their nightclothes in their tumbledown cottage- it could have been any one of the nights they had spent together back home. "I suppose at times women may get a _little_ over-sensitive," she admitted.

"Is that what that is?"

He dodged her slap with a chuckle, and she scowled. "It isn't ladylike to show your temper- and most especially when it coincides with one's- monthly visitor." The last two words caused a hot blush to cover her cheeks, and her voice was low. "But you remember how it felt when your students were badgering you, and your temper started to rise, even though it wasn't really their fault-"

"Vividly-"

"And you felt like you wanted to scream, just to clear the air, but you can't-"

Gilbert looked at her in some consternation. "Ah. I see. Do— you need to give me some kind of warning?"

Anne rolled her eyes impatiently. "There's no need to panic, women do learn self control as we grown up," she said crossly. "I only meant to illustrate how it _feels_."

The brand new husband nodded, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. "And you do feel unwell with it?"

She frowned, not wanting to appear like an invalid. "Yes. It hurts. And it's certainly unpleasant."

Gilbert gave her an intrigued look. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Anne's hand came up to cover her burning cheek. "No. I just need privacy to deal with it."

Gilbert nodded, rubbing his neck shyly. "Would it help to have your bed closer to the err- other room? I can swap them in the morning."

As she met his eyes, she felt relief that he had understood. "Yes, please."

"Done." He gave her a small smile then. "Well, I guess it's something husbands should know about, isn't it?"

"I don't know." Anne closed her eyes tiredly. "Matthew and Marilla were brother and sister; they couldn't tell me what it was to be married. And I hardly think the families I grew up with were any kind of model for us."

Gilbert rested his head against the sofa, and the two of them simply looked at each other in the firelight. "I'd rather make up our own rules. Don't get me wrong, my parents were wonderful. Still are, in fact." He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, and sighed. "But we're _us_. I want us to be able to tell each other anything- I- I don't know how else we can make up for how we started."

Anne looked at him seriously. "I understand what you did tonight, however unfair your tactics were-" she scowled at his smirk, and continued. "But I don't want to be bullied into talking whenever you think that something is wrong."

Gilbert blanched. "Do I do that?"

"Yes," she said evenly. "Oh, never for bad reasons- but you often want me to talk before I'm ready. You need to let me say no."

Gilbert seemed to struggle with this. "And what if I think we need to talk?"

"You shouldn't trick me into doing it before I'm ready. It's not fair. You used to do that when we first became friends- I always assumed it was just your way."

Gilbert swallowed. "I just wanted to get to know you better."

Anne gave a half hearted smile. "Well, you know me better, now, Gil. Treat me like a grown up and ask me- and pay attention if I tell you that I'm not ready."

He sighed, folding his arms. "Alright. I just- worry- at the thought of you holding back with me, and me having no idea what's wrong."

She lowered her brow. "I'm not usually like that, am I?"

"You have been for the past year," he said quietly.

Anne looked at him in shock. "I don't think it was that bad."

Gilbert deliberately rose from the seat, picking up his cup. "You never told me that you were uncomfortable when I got too close to you." He saw her face whiten, and studied the mug in his hands. "Anne, I worry that I'll see that look on your face again. The one that says that you wish I was a million miles away. I- I don't think I could handle that coming from my wife."

Anne rose to her feet awkwardly, smoothing her nightgown down with shaking hands. "Gilbert, I'm sorry- I should have talked to you-"

To this, he lifted his hand, trying to smile. "Don't. Whatever it was, it's in the past now. And we have a very new marriage to keep us busy- not to mention the kind of Christmas we could wind up having."

Anne saw his distraction for what it was, and came close enough to touch his arm. "I won't," she whispered. He stopped then, watching her grey eyes warily. "If something bothers me I will tell you. If I'm not ready to talk about it I will say so. And you need to remember that I chose to be here because I- I couldn't stand the thought of being so far from you."

His look softened, and he reached up to push the soft red curl from her forehead. "I know you did. Are you alright?"

She smiled faintly. "I will be. However, if we are going to make our classes tomorrow, we really do need to go to sleep."

Gilbert gave her a nudge toward the bedroom door. "Go on. I'll take care of the mess out here."

There was an unexpected lump in her throat then. The dishes from their late-night supper were few and could be left until morning, however, she saw his offer for what it was- the privacy for her to take care of what she needed to. Before she could talk herself out of it, she slipped into his side to give him a swift hug, and was gone moments later.

In the kitchen, Gilbert stood still as a goofy smile covered his face, still feeling her warm body pressed against his. He took his time cleaning up the area, and when he entered the bedroom, all was still. This time, when he lay down he heard her soft voice wishing him good night. He did the same, his heart almost bursting. In spite of everything that they had to battle ahead of them- in spite of the rumours and fear of expulsion, he turned his face to where Anne's bed lay behind the screen, and a deep sigh of contentment escaped him. Somehow, he was the luckiest fellow alive.


	10. Chapter 10, From Another Point of View

**Chapter 10**

The last week of term seemed to disappear in a whirlwind. End of term results were handed out at the office, and together Anne and Gilbert opened them in front of their fire on Thursday night, both relieved to see that their troubles had not affected their grades at all. Indeed, Gilbert teased his wife that he'd made up the one point he'd been chasing- ninety-nine percent in Chemistry had become one hundred this time around. This was in an exam sat only two days after their wedding- privately, Gilbert thought himself lucky that he'd remembered to put his name at the top of the paper.

Just that day, Gilbert had been confronted by the members of his football team, who had been informed that he had been replaced as captain. Gilbert had gone to the head of the Redmond sporting program, who claimed that it had been a precautionary measure- he had only been concerned about Gilbert's injury. Gilbert had gritted his teeth as he had admitted that it wasn't healing as well as it should- and he was ordered to begin exercising it properly under the instruction of one of the medical students. He was home late, that day, his shoulder aching from the workout. Anne was not so rough with him- she'd continued to rub the liniment in each night, and heaven knew what other sappy things had flooded out of his mouth under the influence of her beautiful hands.

* * *

On Saturday evening, Gilbert lounged on the sofa reading, waiting for Anne to ready herself for the ball. He refused to dress until it was time to go- his black evening suit would show up even the slightest hair from Rusty, and he wouldn't put it past the animal to rub against him on the evening he had to go out. He sat up at Anne's quiet call.

"Did you need me, Anne?"

"Er- yes. I'm sorry, I know this is awkward- but would- could you please help me with my dress?"

Cautiously, he tiptoed to the bedroom door, and it opened to reveal Anne standing with her hands on the back of the dress holding the sides together. He closed his mouth with a snap, trying to look as if helping his wife dress was an everyday matter.

Anne swallowed, her eyes falling. "I had quite forgotten that the girls and I usually help each other to do this. This gown is really a two-person affair."

Gilbert arranged his face into something that he hoped showed nonchalance, and she turned around, unable to see the dreamy smile that broke through. Of course, she was covered by her dress and her petticoats- but the shy look on her face as she looked over her shoulder at him undid him completely. He cleared his throat then, and frowned, looking at the long row of pearl buttons running down the vivid teal gown.

"Perhaps I should have chosen something easier."

He grinned sheepishly. "No, don't. The colour looks wonderful on you. Have I seen this one before?"

Anne shrugged her slim shoulders. "I don't believe so- I wore it to a dance over the summer with Priscilla."

Gilbert frowned. "Er- do I go from top to bottom or bottom to top?"

Anne placed her hands on her waist, pushing the two sides together. "You really aren't a natural at this," she teased, her cheeks flushing. "You start at the bottom."

"Well, it is my first time." He hesitated before his fingers struggled to find the loops, and he felt her tense as he did the first few up. By the time he had reached the middle of her back, he looked up at her quiet chuckle.

"I suppose this must bring it home to you that you have a wife, now."

Gilbert's lip twitched. "You mean more than the girl who already sleeps in my room?"

"At least we're both sleeping again."

"More or less." After another minute he was done, and she turned so that he could see her dress. The deep flounces and low neckline were lined with a filmy black lace, and he smiled to see her red curls pinned up high behind her, the white tea roses he had produced earlier tucked into the elaborate arrangement. "You look wonderful, Anne."

She stepped away with an indulgent look. "Thank you. You need to get yourself ready too- it wouldn't do for the class president to be late, now, would it?"

Gilbert turned to their mirror and frowned as Anne adjusted the bodice on her slender frame before exiting and closing the door behind her. "Yes- about _that_ ," he muttered dryly, moving to unbutton his shirt with the same hands that had only just buttoned Anne's gown.

He'd been on edge all week. Professor Hallett had surprisingly managed to be at the student representative meeting on Monday night- something he had never done before- and it had all gone very well. Rather too well, he thought uneasily. He'd said nothing more than a brief greeting when the committee recognised him, and sat taking notes in silence. Gilbert sighed, rubbing his face. If Hallett was trying to unsettle him by showing up around campus more, it was working.

Several minutes later, Gilbert emerged from the bedroom shrugging into his black coat. Anne had been pulling on her cloak, and came now to stand before him, adjusting his collar and pulling the lapel straight on his right side as he had not been able to do.

"It's still hurting, isn't it?"

He half-smiled. "I'm only glad it's my left arm- or dancing would be even more painful." Gilbert's face sobered, then. "Anne, if anyone says anything to you-"

"I'll come to you as soon as I can," she finished, and to his surprise, she gave a slight smile. "I'm not afraid, Gil. We bested the island when we went for the Entrance. We created a Village Improvement Society from nothing. We've been some of Redmond's top students for two and a half years. We can do this."

Gilbert grinned. "Of course we can. We'll tell them that you were just too much in love with me to wait until we finished school."

Anne's face turned scarlet, and she gave a chuckling Gilbert a light slap on his arm. " _No_ , I'm not taking the blame for this on my own- perhaps you were rescuing me from an abusive household."

Gilbert picked up her scarf, one eyebrow raised. "No, everyone knows you lived with the girls. Then again, Phil _did_ hit me once-"

"You trod on her skirt, you goose. Of _course_ , she did."

"Abusive household it is." His eyes twinkled at her, and he looped his grey scarf around his neck. "We're going to have to keep our stories straight, you know."

"We'll figure it out." She looked up at Gilbert for a long moment, her hand touching the knot of his crisp white tie. "You know, you _do_ look very handsome."

He grinned. "Thank you. You'll be proud to introduce me as your husband, then?"

Anne smiled at him, as he wrenched the door open, and she tucked her hand in his elbow. "You know, I really will."

* * *

The Christmas dance was well underway when Anne and Gilbert walked up the pathway to Redmond's grand ballroom. The lights shone down brilliantly on every corner of the room, where hundreds of faces span in dizzying circles. Gilbert was uneasy as he parted from Anne at the dressing rooms, however soon they stood at the side of the crowd waiting to enter the dance. To his surprise, there was a loud squeal behind him, and he turned to find Priscilla and Stella approaching. Stella gushed over the jewel-bright dress Anne wore, her own purple gown looking magnificent beside Priscilla's rose pink one. For several minutes they chatted, during which Gilbert asked for a dance with the girls in turn- Anne had teased him then, her eyes sparkling. He was able to fill his card with women he knew, and ones who already knew of their situation- _she_ would need to brave the masses.

When the time came, Gilbert drew his wife out to the dance floor, the lights glinting off her glossy head, and the jewels of the women around them- and he drew in a breath as he placed his hand high on her back, and felt her move in to his arms, her grey eyes on his steadily.

"Together?" she asked him softly, and he smiled.

"Together."

As the dance progressed, when the evening grew cool and the heavy doors were closed tightly, Anne stood on the sidelines with Phil, watching Gilbert dance with Stella. Anne smiled at the way her friend laughed, even from that distance seeing the big grin on Gilbert's face.

"Stella does look lovely tonight," she commented. "Those bright colours are wonderful on her."

Phil smiled smugly. "You should have seen the struggle it was to get her dress done up- I've never seen so many buttons." She turned to Anne, her look critical. "Speaking of which, how did you fare? We were worried about you- I wondered if we should have asked you to get ready at home." Phil saw the way Anne flinched at her innocent comment and sighed. "That was tactless, sweetie; I'm sorry. And I suppose you didn't need any help after all."

Anne swallowed, feeling her cheeks heat. "Well, I- I needed _some_ \- but I ended up asking-"

 _"You didn't ask him!_ " Phil squealed, breaking into a laugh. " _And_?"

Anne's face was heated. "And he buttoned me up. I'd forgotten how hard it was to do alone."

Phil slipped her arm through Anne's. "And was he-"

"Every inch the gentleman."

"I would expect no less." The brown-eyed girl sighed, looking out into the crowd. "And how are _you_ doing?"

Anne bit her lower lip, troubled. "Well, I think. It's almost unsettling to find living together becoming normal- or something that approaches it."

Phil looked at her candidly. "That's what you want though, isn't it? For this to settle into normality?"

Anne frowned. "Yes- and no. Settling does not sit well with me. Although Gilbert did say that we couldn't manage it if we tried."

"I'm with Gilbert, then," Phil commented, amused. "The two of you have enough chemistry to be going on with- perhaps, for now, it's alright to grow comfortable."

The moment between friends was broken then with a saccharine voice that made Anne instantly tense.

"Well, if it isn't Anne _Shirley_!"

The two girls turned to see Claire Hallett and a friend of hers staring at Anne curiously.

"And if it isn't the daughter of the chief of staff!" Phil added, with an impudent twinkle in her eye.

Claire ignored this. "Your gowns are just lovely, dears. Did you come with anyone, Miss Shirley?"

"Actually, we _did_ ," Phil said, smiling just as sweetly. "My escort is out dancing with Miss Grant- and of course, Gilbert came with Anne. Whom did you come with?" She saw the red flush on the girl's cheeks and congratulated herself. Claire's older brother had most likely escorted her- Andrew Hallett was well known amongst the ladies of the younger classes and took every advantage to come to his old college to visit.

Anne watched the waltz winding down now, praying that Gilbert would be back at her side soon- Claire's little jabs and questions were getting on her nerves, and Phil was already intercepting most of them. She stiffened as she found herself being addressed once more.

"I _did_ hear a rumor that might interest you, Anne."

Anne tucked a loose curl behind her ear, turning back to Claire to see that she had been joined by another friend, who looked at Phil with some dislike. "As a matter of fact, Claire, rumours _rarely_ interest me."

"Oh, I think _this_ one might. It's about the ex-captain of the football team."

Phil looked at Anne in some consternation to see her eyes turn green, and she hid a small smirk.

"I don't think Gilbert would pay any attention to rumours either, Claire," Anne said quietly. "He stepped down due to his injuries. But you know that already, I think."

Claire smiled. "Oh, I knew. However, I wondered if you knew that someone had checked on your escort while he was injured in the medical tent. Someone who really shouldn't have been there."

There was a brief flash of panic in Anne's chest, however, she kept her look even. "Thankfully, yes. Otherwise, who knows what kind of trouble the faculty's negligence could have caused Gilbert?"

Claire seemed to register this as an insult to her father, and tipped her blond head up, her eyes glittering. "I heard that _you_ seemed quite interested in the medical tents on the day of the game," she said spitefully. "So say some of the football team."

At the gasp from Claire's friends, Anne caught Phil's eye, who was watching her carefully. "When my _fiance_ was injured, yes."

Claire blinked, startled. "I beg your pardon? You're engaged? To whom?"

"Well, that would have been _me_ , Miss Hallett," Gilbert said unexpectedly. He had come up behind Anne in time to overhear the question, slipping his hand into hers.

Claire was startled, but gave him a coy smile. " _Would_ have been?" she asked. "Don't tell me the golden couple of the junior year has been having troubles?"

Gilbert smiled wickedly. "I wouldn't say that, would you, sweetheart?" he turned to Anne, who narrowed her eyes at his cheekiness.

"No, darling." Anne turned back to Claire politely. "We are _not_ engaged, Miss Hallett- at least not any longer. I am afraid that your gossip is a little behind the times. Gilbert and I were married two weeks ago."

Claire gave Anne a disbelieving look, her blue eyes wide. " _Impossible_. You can't get married during college."

Gilbert nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well, I'm fairly certain that if you ask your father, he will be able to confirm that we _are_ in fact students here- and also that we are married."

Claire seemed unable to process this, and a gushing Phil chimed in. "It was a lovely little wedding- as you might imagine, only _select_ people were invited. Oh- and here comes my escort! What wonderful timing."

Claire looked around to see Phil sliding her arm through an awkward young man's with a sunny smile, Stella talking happily with Roger McKay from the debating club, and Priscilla close behind her. Perhaps they had deliberately flanked Anne and Gilbert- in any case, Claire drew away warily.

"You know, it is considered polite to congratulate a newlywed couple on their marriage," Phil said innocently. "Won't you congratulate Anne and Gilbert, Claire? And your father has been _so_ understanding."

The tall girl gave a forced smile. "Well, he does greatly care for the moral wellbeing of his students. No doubt your _marriage_ was considered necessary. Congratulations, Anne. I _do_ hope your honeymoon doesn't interfere with your studies."

She swept her ice-blue skirts around, closely followed by her friends, and Anne breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone. The girls were swift to begin to talk, however, Anne turned to Gilbert with a vulnerable look in her eyes. His own darkened, as his hand closed over hers.

"She knows, doesn't she?" he murmured, audible only to Anne.

Anne gave a short nod. "I would guarantee it."

* * *

As the ball progressed, the number of people asking the question only rose. Gilbert was approached by the boys of the football team, who had heard via the grapevine that Gilbert was now a married man. He accepted their teasing, and as several of them left, Gilbert was left standing with Timothy.

"Blythe, why would you do something so stupid?" he asked quietly. At the brief flash in Gilbert's eyes, he held a hand up. "I don't mean _Anne_ , the whole world knows you've been in love with her forever- but why _now_? How do you expect to finish college?"

Gilbert's teeth clenched. "Have you ever known me to not finish anything I start?"

Timothy folded his arms, his eyes calculating. "Well, an hour ago, I would have said no."

"I suggest that you remember that."

The sandy-headed boy turned so that no one could overhear them. "It's going to make talk. You know that."

Gilbert exhaled, his stomach sinking. "Gossip is irrelevant."

Timothy gritted his teeth. "Not when it involves you, Gil. There are plenty who would like to see you knocked down a peg. Anne, too."

Gilbert bristled at that. "If anyone so much as _mentions_ her-"

He grabbed Gilbert's arm, his look stern. "Look, Gil, you can't just blast everyone. I'm telling you that you need to be careful."

"You don't think I know that?" Gilbert snapped. "Of course the gossip mongers will have a field day. But Anne and I chose this together- we chose this knowing that it was fast, that no one else would understand. But it's what is right for us."

Timothy rubbed his hands over his face. "Look, for the record, I _like_ Anne. She's intelligent and pretty, and the only girl who can keep up with you around here. But think about what you're doing- even if you got through the next year-and-a-half, how will _she_?"

Gilbert squared his shoulders, his eyes narrowed. "Just leave that to us. If you think I'm stubborn, I promise you, that's nothing compared to my wife."

The other man gave a reluctant grin. "Well, you'll both need it." He sighed. "You're really married?"

Gilbert caught Anne's red head as she waltzed by them with one of their classmates of the junior year, and he smiled. "I am. And I couldn't be happier about it. Now, all we need to do is break it to our families."

Timothy gave him an alarmed look. "You've not yet- Gil, have you lost your mind?"

There was a reluctant chuckle then. "I fear they will think so. You won't be alone in your concerns."

Timothy grinned wryly. "You have to face her father?"

Gilbert's voice softened, and he smiled. "No. Her adopted mother." He saw the look of surprise on the other fellow's face. "Anne is more incredible than you would believe."

"I don't doubt that." Timothy slapped Gilbert on the back, a teasing grin on his face. "After all, it takes someone fairly remarkable to make the smartest fellow in our year lose the plot."

Gilbert grinned. "You have no idea."

* * *

Anne and Gilbert were to share the last dance before supper, and unbeknownst to them, they were being studied from the elaborate staircase that led to the supper rooms. Gilbert held her close to him, her cheek close to his own as they moved gracefully on the floor. From her vantage point, an expensively dressed woman observed the synchronicity of the pair.

" _Interesting_ ," Miss Christine Stuart mused.

"Mmm?"

Christine gave the gentleman a rap on his hand with her fan indulgently. "Royal, you should pay your escort more attention."

The dark headed gentleman looked down at her, his darker eyes amused. "I think you manage to gain enough of that by yourself, don't you?"

Her violet eyes narrowed teasingly. "Roy; Ronald promised that you would be a lamb for me."

Roy smiled. "It would be more effective if _I_ had promised you that. Pray tell, what is so fascinating?"

Christine shrugged her ivory shoulders elegantly. "Your predecessor as my escort, in fact."

"Ouch. Might I know how I was only _second_ in line to be my old classmate's escort?"

She chuckled. "Roy, You know that darling Andrew didn't really want another wealthy bachelor following me around."

"I resent _following_ ," Roy muttered. "But continue."

Christine smiled. "Ronald suggested you when his friend became unavailable; Mr Gilbert Blythe. Do you know him?"

Roy shrugged. "I've heard the name."

"Ronald knew him when he was in his freshman year here- and he is rather impressive." She pointed down to where Anne and Gilbert were dancing, Anne's copper curls gleaming in the electric lights. "With the redhead. Do you see them?"

There was a dignified pause, then- "I'm afraid he doesn't impress me from here, Chrissy."

Christine scowled. "Would you stop calling me that? Ronald knows I hate that name."

"I _do_ however see the young lady with him. That would be Anne Shirley, I believe."

Christine's perfect black brows rose. "You know her?"

"No. I should like to, though. She read a marvellous paper on Tennyson at the Philomathic a few weeks ago- and she is quite exquisite."

"And _unavailable_."

Roy brushed an imaginary speck off his cuffs, unruffled. "No one is truly unavailable, Miss Stuart. Not even you."

Christine smiled. "Oh, Daddy wouldn't like that at all, Mr Gardner. I am afraid his daughter _is_ unavailable. As is Miss Shirley." Christine's look was arch. "Mr Blythe contacted my brother to tell him that he would not be available to escort me around Kingsport this winter- as he and Miss Shirley were about to be married, of all things."

Royal began to laugh. "Good heavens- that's a drastic way to avoid a few concerts, isn't it?"

"No, they're quite serious, according to Ronald," Christine said thoughtfully. "I do wonder what possessed them to be so hurried about it all- it can't have been much of a wedding."

Roy looked down at the pair curiously. "That's very- _interesting_."

"That was _my_ opinion."

He chuckled. "There's nothing like a mystery to whet the appetite, is there? And the young lady and I do share many classes- it's a wonder I haven't been introduced to her, yet."

Christine turned to him crossly. "Roy, I've lost one very handsome escort to this young woman, I shouldn't like to lose _two_. You promised Ronald that you would make sure that I didn't get lonely."

"Chrissy, you have as much chance of getting lonely as I do getting out of taking on my father's wretched business."

"True."

Roy offered her his arm with his deep, velvety smile. "And yet I will stand by my word. However, since it is the height of rudeness to dance together all evening, I suggest that you introduce me to your Mr Blythe, and perhaps we may while away some time in the presence of this illustrious couple."

Christine placed her gloved hand at his elbow, her look warning. "Now, no more mischief."

Roy's smile was brilliant at this. "Christine, _Christine_. Who could be safer than a married woman?"

* * *

Anne and Gilbert were seated on one of the long benches in the supper room, looking around them quietly. Occasionally Anne would point someone out to Gilbert, or he would whisper something that made her grin- at that moment there were two perfectly contented people in the crowded room, happily left to their own devices.

"There you are, darlings!" Phil said, dropping herself onto the bench beside Anne. Behind her stood a shy Jonas Blake, although he greeted Anne and Gilbert warmly. The gentlemen fell into an easy discussion, and Phil leant over to speak to Anne.

"Jo is so nervous- I don't think he really wanted to come tonight," she said, a trifle dismally.

Anne smiled at her. "And yet he is here, Phil."

"I told him that he would see Gilbert here," she admitted. "He was rather worried about being with the elite of Kingsport."

Anne looked up at Jonas, now chuckling as Gilbert spoke to him. "We're mostly students, Phil. And he is a college man himself."

"Yes, but he wasn't trying to impress _me_ when he was here," Phil said crossly, her voice low. "I've told him that he needn't worry."

Her friend smiled into her brown eyes. "We were _all_ a little dazzled by you when we first met you, Phil- you move in circles we can't imagine."

Ignoring a lifetime of training, Phil snorted. "Please, darling. I am not my parents. I- wish he would just grow comfortable with us."

"He will, dear. You just need to give him some time."

The bell to signal the return to the dance went then, and Anne excused herself with Phil to visit the dressing rooms. Priscilla was there with a slight gape in her gown, and the girls were swift to assist her before they walked down the carpeted halls to the stairs.

Anne paused suddenly, her eyes wide. Gilbert was talking to a disturbingly beautiful young woman she had seen on campus from time to time. She raised her chin and allowed the girls to walk ahead of her, relaxing a little when Gilbert turned, his smile wide as he held out his hand.

"Miss Stuart, Mr Gardner, I don't believe you know my wife."

Anne turned at the sound of a musical, melting voice, and she froze momentarily. Before her was a phantom- the very hero of her childish dreams in the flesh. He could not more closely have resembled her ideal if he had been made to order. He took her hand in his, his smile gentle.

"A pleasure, Mrs Blythe- although I remember you from our classes as Miss _Shirley_ , of course."

Anne swallowed, darting an odd look towards the woman on his arm. "It's lovely to meet you both. Mr Gardner, I don't remember seeing you in any of my classes before."

Christine spoke up then, her violet eyes twinkling. "No, Roy was rather late to school this term- his mother did insist on him finishing his tour of Rome."

Roy turned to Gilbert, his tone polite. "My father is recently deceased, and my mother has not been well. I remained to make sure that she was well enough to travel."

Gilbert nodded. "I understand." He turned to Anne with a smile. "Christine's older brother was in his Junior year when we were freshmen- he was the one who insisted that the Lambs interview me."

Anne couldn't help but smile. "So he was responsible for you wearing a bonnet?"

Gilbert chuckled sheepishly. "Indirectly, yes."

Christine turned to Anne then. "My brother does like to cause mischief- and he often finds people who aide and abet him. Royal, of course, is far too sensible to join in."

The second bell went then, and Roy turned to Anne to solicit her for a dance. With an uneasy look at Gilbert, Anne accepted, finding herself irrationally cross that he had politely asked the sister of his friend to share the same dance with him. She internally shook herself, resolving to be perfectly sensible about the whole business.

* * *

Late in the evening, Royal Gardner approached her, his look warm as he led her to the floor. She couldn't help giving Gilbert an apologetic look- for what, she couldn't tell- only to see him wink at her, his hazel eyes twinkling at some private joke.

"You know, I have been wondering who you are for some time, now," the smooth voice said.

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she answered as calmly as she could. "Oh?"

"Yes. I was entranced by the passion you showed when you presented the paper on Tennyson. I should dearly love to discuss it with you- I was hoping that we would be introduced soon."

Anne cleared her throat, her eyes somewhere over his shoulder. "And- do you enjoy English Literature, Mr Gardner?"

"Greatly. And please, Mrs Blythe, I should like it if you called me Royal. Or Roy, if you prefer."

Anne's lip twitched. "Or I could continue to call you Mr Gardner, perhaps."

She was somewhat taken aback when he only smiled, his voice melancholy. "Mr Gardner was my father, Miss Shirley. It does make me rather feel as if I don't belong. My class, you see, graduated without me."

She frowned, wondering if she had upset him. "That must have been difficult."

"It was. And yet to meet a kindred spirit-" here, Anne almost stopped moving- "in my new year, my new class- I am reconciled to the loss of the years that the locust has eaten." Something in his eyes made Anne's insides clench uncomfortably, and she breathed out slowly. For the remainder of the dance, one in which he did not see the need to release her often, Anne's answers to his questions were brief, as she attempted to keep her mind from also following Gilbert's progress with Miss Cordelia Fitzgerald- otherwise known as Miss _Stuart_. The young woman had been charmingly sweet to her, and Anne wondered what made her so uneasy. It was the rumour mill, she told herself. That was all.

The dance concluded soon after, and after one last dance with Phil's Jonas, Gilbert came to help her on with her wrap, and Anne was startled to find tears pricking her eyes at his gentle manner. They said goodnight to the Patty's Place girls and their escorts, and Gilbert and Anne were silent as they began the walk toward their home. The wind had died down, and a troubled Anne now looked up at the starlight. The feelings churning in her middle were so tumultuous that she was quieter than she realised, and Gilbert watched her carefully as they walked down the side of the building, their Mushroom coming into view.

Rusty was there to greet them when they unlocked their front door, and Gilbert helped her out of her cloak with gentle hands. He watched her for a moment, before throwing himself down in his coat and tails on the old sofa, loosening his tie.

"You know, I couldn't help but dislike Mr Royal Gardner," Gilbert said suddenly.

Anne's hands were already removing the pins from her hair, and she turned to him in some surprise. "Why, Gil?"

He grimaced at the low light of the fire. "Because he looks exactly like the man you described yourself marrying, not so very long ago."

Anne's cheeks were pale, but something in her heart broke at his honesty. She reached out to touch his hand lightly. "I was under the impression that I was _already_ married, Gilbert. Everyone is talking about it."

He grinned, brightening. "Oh? And what do they say?"

Anne let out a breath that she seemed to have been holding all night, enjoying once more the unexpected peace of their home, far away from the glitter and noise of the ballroom. "Well, they say that Miss Shirley must have put the class president into a trance to make him forget his duties."

Gilbert's eyebrow flew up. "Well- that's unflattering."

Anne smiled. "They also said that Gilbert Blythe is quite the smartest person in our year- and that he was _oh_ so handsome in his suit tonight."

"Go on," he said smugly.

Anne chuckled, but she paused as she looked into the eyes of the man whom she trusted, seeing the need for reassurance in him. "And there is _one_ person who says that you are her very best friend." She blinked suddenly watery eyes. "And- _she_ \- is thankful that you see her for who she is. And that you took such a big risk on her."

Gilbert's hand came up to cup her cheek, bending close enough to touch her nose to his. "Hey, now. You took the biggest risk on me," he said softly. At Anne's bewildered look, he touched his forehead to hers. "I haven't forgotten what I promised you, Anne. I know that I can't give it all to you now- but I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure that you have everything- _everything_ \- you ever dreamed of."

Anne's eyes fell before his, a rosy blush staining her cheeks. She cleared her throat then. "Right. Well, I suppose I'd better get ready for bed now." Her abrupt words made him blink, however, he didn't have time to move before she bent in, pressing a hasty kiss to his surprised mouth. Gilbert's eyebrows were in his hairline, and he couldn't fight the disbelieving smile on his face.

"And what was _that_ , Miss _We-need-to-slow-down_?" he teased, grinning at the way she rose to her feet, as stately as only Anne could be.

"That is _Mrs_ , not _Miss_ , Gilbert Blythe. And you could call it a temporary lapse of judgment." She bowed her head then, her cheeks flushed. "And also a thank you for being a wonderful escort tonight."

Gilbert stood up then, his hazel eyes dreamy. "Any time, sweetheart."


	11. Chapter 11, There's no Place Like Home

**Chapter 11**

The Kingsport train jostled along the tracks in the early morning light, and Gilbert looked across at his wife. She was staring out of the foggy windows, tear-like droplets of condensation running down the inside of the glass. She had removed her hat, and soft, red curls shone in the swaying lamplight.

She had been quiet as they packed their bags the night before- adding things and removing them, repacking the carefully purchased presents and then standing in their bedroom staring into space for a time. When she hadn't moved for long minutes, he touched her gently on the shoulder.

"Anne? I was going to put the kettle on if you were interested in having supper now."

She nodded, the seven little freckles on her nose showing up against her pallor. Again Gilbert felt the frustration of not knowing how to comfort her- she had grown more anxious as the days wore on, and he understood- this would be the first time they were returning home after the wedding.

Anne soon sat at their little kitchen table, and the two of them shared a simple meal before Anne automatically began to tidy their living space. After Gilbert's own packing was done, he took her hand in his, and drew her over to the sofa in front of the fire. He could feel the tension in her body and was determined to wait until she was ready to speak, this time. He looked around the little room thoughtfully. A small bookcase now held most of their books, while the rest were stacked in a neat pile beside it. The walls were the same mossy brown, and some photographs were on the mantle- some of his parents, Marilla and Matthew- and one that she hadn't even known that he had- a small picture of the two of them from their AVIS days. He looked across at her, with a lump in his throat. It wasn't supposed to be like this- he was meant to carry her over the threshold and into a home borne of romance, not a shabby cottage with the hint of scandal about their relationship. And yet- as he studied her pale face, he couldn't be sorry. She was here, she was with him in a way he couldn't have dreamed for years. Was he so terrible for being thankful?

At her soft sigh, he squeezed her hand. She looked up at him, her eyes showing the turmoil inside. "You're worried about home, aren't you?"

Her chin seemed to tremble, then. He was waiting for it to lift, and for her to retreat from him with her head held high, her eyes flaming- and he was almost more worried that she didn't.

"Anne, please talk to me," he pleaded. "I know it will be hard this first time-"

"They will be so disappointed in us," she said faintly. She turned to meet his anxious face, and her heart broke a little. "To decide this- with no warning- to know that we only married to avoid a scandal- and you _know_ that the others will think the worst of us."

Gilbert cleared his throat, his eyes holding hers. "Anne, honey- we didn't do anything wrong. We both know that. Although I would guess that we are going to have a rough couple of years to begin with," he said slowly. He watched her eyes close, and he put his arm around her, smiling when she turned to nestle against his shoulder. "But I promise I'll be right here with you."

"What if they are very angry?" she whispered. "What if they can't accept-"

"Then we come home early."

Anne blinked at the hardness of his tone, and looked up at him in bewilderment. "If things were to go that badly, then we're not going to stay there trying to convince them." His jaw moved convulsively, sure that it wasn't the time for any mad declaration on his part- but he wouldn't let them hurt his beloved girl with their ire. "We'll just come back home, alright? We are adults, and we made the best decision we could at the time. And no matter what happened, at some point news was going home, wasn't it?"

Anne seemed to wilt under the truth of this. "Yes."

"Look, we're going to tell them what really happened. My parents, Marilla-"

"Mrs Lynde," Anne said hoarsely. "Oh, she will be _abominable_ -"

Gilbert couldn't help but chuckle. "Anne, we're going to show them all," he said frankly, and she tipped up her head to stare at him. "We are going to thrive. We will spend this time working hard, and graduate in eighteen months time, and then- if you will let me- we will begin everything properly."

Her cheeks flushed, and he wondered if her mind was as occupied as his own with the idea of beginning a real marriage.

"Gilbert? Are you quite sure that you don't regret this?" she asked, slowly.

"No. Do you?"

Anne was silent for a time and then turned her face to stare at him in the flickering light.

"I- I do wish we weren't going home in this manner." His heart sank, until she spoke again. "But no. I don't regret it."

Gilbert smiled, and it only grew when she relaxed in his arms.

* * *

Throughout the long trip to the island, Gilbert kept Anne close to his side, talking when she felt like it, and reading his book in peace when she didn't. On the water, they had sat out on the deck for a time, and he smiled to see her move to the side to see whales in the distance, her face brightening as she spoke with other passengers. His book was forgotten as he studied her then, her cheeks pink with cold, and her red curls blowing under the little grey hat she wore with her travelling suit.

He had a _wife_. Gilbert released a long breath, exhausted. Shouldn't he, a student with no income, be terrified of the responsibility? And a wife who was as determined as he was to make her own way in the world. That she had even agreed to this marriage still bewildered him- they were still so young- she wasn't yet twenty-one, and he had only just turned twenty-three. She'd always grumbled about his age between his birthday and hers- since it elevated him to being three years her senior. he shivered slightly. Where could they be by her next birthday?

There was a small twinge in his heart then. He'd always dreamed of spoiling her with lovely things. The smallest token had always made Anne light up- a wildflower from the forest, a note from a beloved friend. He had a small gift for her for Christmas- but it was no engagement ring. He was hoping that he could do it for her twenty-first birthday, perhaps- an amethyst, he thought fondly. Anne didn't like diamonds.

* * *

In Charlottetown he thought that Anne seemed calmer- she even teased him about the uneven shave he had given himself that morning. He protested that he did it in the dark- the pair of them had breakfasted well before sunrise to make the train, and the air had been frigid on the short walk to the Kingsport station.

There was time for a swift dinner before the pair of them boarded the train for Carmody, and once they were on the familiar track Gilbert watched the colour drain from Anne's face, now anticipating the welcome at the other end. They were alone in the last of the carriages, and Gilbert pushed their belongings aside to turn to Anne on the faded seat.

"What if we don't tell them tonight?" he said suddenly.

Anne's eyes were enormous, and her voice rose in faint hysteria. "Then _when_? On our golden wedding anniversary?"

To this, he chuckled. " _No_ , you goose. Tomorrow. When everyone's had a decent sleep- _including_ us- and they'll be in a better frame of mind for us to spring a marriage on them."

"There isn't enough sleep in the world to make that go smoothly," Anne said morosely.

Gilbert shrugged. "Think of the alternative- trying to do it tonight when we're exhausted, giving them no warning- and then we'll each be alone trying to deal with the consequences." Anne's eyes softened at the look of concern in his eyes. "How will I know if you're alright, if I'm not with you when you tell them?"

Anne froze in dismay, her mouth open as her imagination furnished the rest. "Wonderful. Now you have me worrying about us being cast from our respective houses, and wandering through the Haunted Wood with our suitcases trying to find each other in a blizzard-"

Gilbert couldn't help but smile, and he cupped her cheeks in his brown hands, his hazel eyes twinkling. "Anne-girl, you're going into an irrational place now. You know that, right?"

This made her pause, and he was surprised to see that her cheeks flushed and that she had ignored his gentle teasing. "Diana's aunt used to call me that."

"I know. I heard her do it years ago. I liked it. Do you mind?"

Anne smiled, her eyes fond. "No, I don't. I do miss her." She was silent for a moment and turned to find him watching her. "She remembered me kindly till the last, Gil. I- I almost didn't return to college this year. I didn't have the money."

He paled at her words. "Anne, are you serious? Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged sadly. "You had your own worries, Gil. You didn't need to carry mine. But last Christmas I received a letter from Miss Barry's lawyer- and she left me a thousand dollars in her will. It was enough to keep me there this year- with some towards next year's tuition as well. She was so good to me."

Gilbert shook his head, still in shock, his mind only imagining her leaving. "I- I can't believe it. Anne, what would I have done without you?"

Her lips curved into a wistful smile. "You wouldn't be a married man right now if I hadn't come back."

He clasped her hand tighter, and his eyes were glittering strangely as he watched the lights flicker across her pale face. "Anne, you know I'd rather be here with you now, don't you?"

Anne paused, her eyes falling before his. "I know." He couldn't help but smile at the way she moved closer to him on the seat. "So we need to wait until tomorrow. Do you really think we can pretend that everything is fine until then?"

Gilbert shrugged now, his normal poise returning. "We can only try. I'll have mother and dad come over tomorrow morning to Green Gables- we can do it together then."

Anne frowned. "It's going to be strange."

"Stranger than _this_?"

She chuckled, looking out of the carriage windows into the darkness. "We've been together constantly for the last few weeks. It's going to be strange to be in separate houses now."

Gilbert gave her a curious look, his twisted smile evident. "Do you want to come and stay in my room at the farm then? Or have me in yours at Green Gables?"

Her cheeks instantly flamed into colour. "Oh, that would be so _odd_." Her eyes found him, and together, they began to laugh. Anne shook her head. "Maybe that's a stretch too far right now," she said sheepishly.

Gilbert grinned. "You're right. There's no sense sending them into early graves just yet. I'm sure by summertime we'll have it figured out."

* * *

It was eight o'clock in the evening when the train pulled into the Carmody station, and Anne and Gilbert were the only passengers to climb down from the train that night. Gilbert placed Anne's bag down on the platform while he went for their trunks, and Anne stood shivering, looking around until she saw Marilla talking with John Blythe at the fence. There was a moment when the train shuddered, and she was overwhelmed with a mad desire to grab Gilbert's hand and pull him back onto the train with her- but then the train began to move, and Gilbert was standing by her side, his hand on her elbow in reassurance. Nervously, she put her hand to her throat to feel the chain that carried her wedding ring.

Marilla was the first to reach the pair, and enfolded her girl into her arms, noting instantly that Anne was rather thin. She pulled away to study her carefully, and in an unusual display of public affection, she cupped the girl's pale cheek in her gloved hand.

"Is all well?" she asked, her eyes watchful.

Anne tried to smile. "Yes. It's been a rather trying few weeks, that's all. It's so good to be- home," she faltered.

Gilbert and his father had greeted each other with an unembarrassed hug, however, Marilla's sharp eyes didn't miss the way he moved back to Anne's side, that his hand slipped into Anne's unconsciously, followed by the nervous look she gave him in return. Unconsciously, she gave the boy a measured glance and noticed with some alarm that John was frowning as if something puzzled him as well. Their eyes met, but the moment was broken as Gilbert greeted her courteously.

"Miss Cuthbert, it's good to see you. I- I wondered if my parents and I would be able to call on you at Green Gables in the morning?"

This was evidently the surprise to John as it was to her, and she found her tongue after a moment of silence. "You never needed an invitation before, Gilbert. You and your parents certainly don't need one now."

"Nevertheless, thank you," he said with a strained smile. "Perhaps we all should head home- It's only going to get colder out here, I think."

He picked up Anne's bags quite by matter of course to carry them down the steps to the buggy, and John followed with Gilbert's in puzzled silence. Marilla turned to Anne, searching the girl's face anxiously. Anne smiled at her then, settling her jaunty hat on her red curls.

"Is everyone at home?" she asked, and Marilla gave her an amused smile.

"Yes, and eager to hear all of your news."

Anne nodded, a slight smile on her face. "And I can't wait to see them all. I've missed you all so."

As the foursome arrived at the wagons, Anne looked around her absently. The breeze rustled through the trees that she and Diana had played under when Mr Barry brought them to town, and in the distance, she could hear the sound of the crashing waves on the rock shore. All around her were memories- the walk home from Queens through fine weather, and the stores she had loved to peruse when Matthew had needed supplies. She remembered Gilbert taking her there to order their schoolbooks too, and the first time he had asked her to go to a dance with him- the very first time they had been anywhere together, in fact.

The two wagons were next to each other, and Marilla was already seated, the reins in her hand. Anne turned to find Gilbert beside her, and there was a faint pang inside as their eyes met: it was _guilt_ , she realised. Guilt that she needed to step away from her husband without proper acknowledgement. Almost she moved toward him, almost he moved to her- and both halted, restraining what was becoming normal to them. She swallowed, trying to shake off the unreasonable emotion. He understood that they couldn't, she knew that. However, it was with an apologetic look that Gilbert handed her into the buggy beside Marilla, and in his eyes, she saw the shadow of a wry smile.

He pressed her fingers with his and stepped away with a nod. "Miss Cuthbert, Anne," he said lightly. "We'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

The next morning dawned grey and cold, however inside Green Gables was a haven of comfort, with Davy's handiwork blazing merrily in the fireplaces. Anne flitted around after breakfast answering questions distractedly and picking up items only to forget what she had intended to do with them.

Marilla had not asked any questions since the previous night; Anne supposed that she was waiting to see what would come of the morning's visit. She had endured Mrs Lynde fretting over the small amount of food she had been able to eat the night before, asking if she had been quite well, until Anne felt quite ready to scream. She knew that Marilla suspected something, and longed to ease her mind- as if anything she said could possibly do that! She had come up to tuck Anne in as she had done after many a homecoming, blowing out her lamp, folding her scarf neatly, and chasing the twins from her room, who were eager to hear the news from Redmond. Dora asked what the students were wearing in Kingsport this winter, and Davy was eager for news of Gilbert's exploits. Anne could only say honestly that she had left him quite well, and that they would see him the next day. To Anne's relief, though, Marilla had had the foresight to send the twins to visit the Harrison's for the morning.

In the parlour, the old-fashioned lamps were lit, emitting a golden glow over the horsehair furniture. Anne cast an anxious eye over the room, adjusting cushions and antimacassars, and moving Marilla's tea trolley to a better position. In the old mirror above the mantle, she checked her reflection yet again, wondering if she should change her dress back to the green one that Gilbert had once told her he liked especially. She smoothed the blue wool gown over her hips uneasily, and then jumped in fright, as the door bell sounded.

It was time.

Now, she could hear voices in the hallway and looked around in something like panic. All of the consequences that she had imagined danced around her, and she stifled a groan as Mrs Lynde bustled into the parlour, an ample sewing basket in her arms that she dropped beside the most comfortable of the chairs. Before Anne could even consider how she could remove her without hurting her feelings, Mr and Mrs Blythe were ushered into the room, and greeted Anne with the same tense cordiality that Marilla had displayed that morning. She excused herself to check on the tea, only to see Marilla taking it past her to the parlour, and Gilbert grabbed her hand quickly as she passed him in the hallway, seeing that they had a moment of privacy.

" _Mrs Lynde_ is in there," she whispered, and Gilbert closed his eyes for a brief moment, clasping her hand tightly.

"Last chance to run," he said then, his hazel eyes suddenly gleaming and wicked. "You and I could be in Charlottetown in just a few hours." To his surprise, she seemed to consider it, before breaking into a nervous laugh. "You just thought about it, didn't you?"

Anne groaned. "Maybe it's not a silly idea to tell them on our twentieth wedding anniversary."

"Come on, how badly can they take it?" Anne opened her mouth to speak, and Gilbert shrugged. "Worst case scenario, we tell them and then make run for it." Gilbert raised her hand to kiss her fingertips, and twinkling grey eyes met hazel. "Are you with me, Mrs Blythe?"

He saw her smile anxiously and nod, and he released her to walk into the parlour ahead of him. All polite small talk ceased at that instant, and Gilbert felt four sets of eyes watching him. He cleared his throat. He carefully took a seat next to- but not _too_ close- to Anne, and an impish sense of the ridiculous nudged him.

"Well, for starters, neither of us are pregnant."

Anne choked back a hysterical laugh as Marilla froze, Mrs Lynde's jaw dropped in horror, and Gilbert's mother clutched her husband's arm hard enough to leave a bruise. All eyes turned to Anne.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't really funny," she muttered, abashed.

Gilbert met her pained eyes, having to curb his own nervous laughter. "I apologise, Marilla, mother; I shouldn't have been so flippant."

"Suppose you tell us what all the fuss is about then, Gilbert," Marilla said tartly.

He looked to Anne, who shot him a faintly desperate look, and he manufactured a smile for her benefit. Knowing how it would be seen, he took her hand in his deliberately. "We have some rather big news for you all. I'm sorry that we could give you no warning, however, we felt it important to tell you in person."

"I _knew_ it!" Mrs Lynde said triumphantly, "I knew it, I was telling Maude Andrews yesterday-"

Mrs Blythe hardly seemed to hear Mrs Lynde speaking, and her own joy bubbled over. "You're finally _engaged_! Oh, my darlings-"

Anne seemed to pale even further, and Gilbert drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for the chaos. "We're not engaged." He watched every eye fly to the way he held her hand and tried to smile calmly. "Mother, Dad, Marilla; Anne and I were married two weeks ago."

Mrs Lynde seemed to choke in shock, and Anne prayed feverishly that she might remain silent for just a moment.

John Blythe got to his feet, rubbing his forehead in a dreamlike manner, and seemed to be trying to process the news. "Gilbert, if this is you trying to be funny-"

Anne squeezed Gilbert's hand rather hard, and she looked at her new father-in-law nervously. "He's- he's not, Mr Blythe. We know how unexpected this is-"

Marilla found her voice at this point, quite flabbergasted. "Anne Shirley, unexpected is an _understatement_. What happened? What of your schooling? Of a proper courtship- and you told _none_ of us?"

Anne and Gilbert both flinched as Mrs Lynde's words began to spew forth over the top of the other adults. "I _told_ you that nothing good would come from this higher education for girls, Marilla; if she was determined to have this boy ahead of time then the wedding should have been done decently at home before they could compromise themselves-"

"Rachel-"

" _Mrs Lynde-"_

The older woman seemed to swell in indignation. "How _could_ you elope? Don't you realise how this will appear to the town? What will Mrs Harmon Andrew say about this- what of the Pyes? Anne Shirley, time and time again I have told you that a woman must be guarded, lest she allow some young man's lust to overthrow his common sense-"

Before either Anne and Gilbert could react to this fresh assault, John stepped in front of the young pair protectively, his look stern. "Rachel, would you mind stepping outside, please? This should be a family discussion."

Gilbert watched Mrs Lynde's eyes widen in resentment, however, Marilla spoke up crisply. "Rachel, John is right. If you wouldn't mind, the five of us will talk now."

Anne shuddered at the sound of the heavy door banging closed behind the wrathful lady. "I suppose that could have been worse," she said faintly, and Gilbert exhaled. No one seemed to know what to say next, until Amelia Blythe clasped her hands together, clearly a woman trying to find something to anchor to.

"Well. I expect that there is a story here."

Anne's smile was forced, and she licked her lips nervously. "Yes, Mrs Blythe. We know that you must be disappointed- but there was an accident- and while this outcome was not anticipated, this was the solution that Gilbert and I believed was for the best."

Marilla had not spoken a word since Rachel had left the room, and Anne moved now to kneel at Marilla's side, her eyes pleading. "If you will let us, we'll explain everything, Marilla."

The room watched as her hand cupped Anne's cheek, and she looked at the girl who was like her own flesh and blood with bewildered eyes. "The two of you were really married?"

Anne smiled then, her look hesitant. "Yes." She stood then, and moved back to Gilbert's side, taking from him the folder that contained their marriage certificate. "Three weeks ago-"

The room sat in stunned silence as Anne and Gilbert told the entire tale, from the incident at the medical tent, to the meeting with their professors. Gilbert's mother insisted on examining the site of the injuries, much to his embarrassment in front of his new mother-in-law. The bruises had faded somewhat, however, it was quite plain that some damage had been done. The behaviour of the faculty was debated for a time, and when it was over, Mrs Blythe turned to Marilla, flabbergasted.

"Heavens above," she exclaimed blankly. "Isn't this something that could only happen to this pair?" she asked, only to be greeted by Marilla's wry smile.

"I did imagine that they had more common sense together." She turned to Gilbert then. "Did you not think about simply remaining engaged for the duration of your degree? Surely that would quiet any rumours."

Gilbert chanced a look at Anne and shook his head. "No. It was part of the agreement with the head of staff at Redmond. If Anne and I were to stay and not be penalized in any way, we needed to be married."

John folded his arms, his eyes on his new daughter-in-law curiously. "I- you're really married." The statement was more like a question, and at Anne's nod, he suddenly cleared his throat and bent down to give Anne a warm, if somewhat unsure hug. "Well- welcome to the Blythe family, Anne."

Amelia drew a handkerchief from her bag, trying to smile shakily. "I'm just so sorry that we missed your wedding. What did you do for it? Was it at a registry? Was anyone with you?"

Anne wiped a tear from her eyes and shook her head. "It wasn't at a registry- we had a tiny wedding at home at Patty's Place. The minister-"

"Oh, thank heavens there was a minister-" Mrs Blythe gasped in relief, making her husband laugh.

"Jo- Reverend Blake- was wonderful," Anne added shyly. "The girls were our witnesses, and it was- simple, and lovely- I even had a white dress- and Aunt Jimsie made a wedding feast for the eight of us. She even made us a wedding cake. Moody was there to stand with Gilbert- he promised he wouldn't say anything until we had had a chance to tell you all. We are so very sorry that it couldn't wait for us to be at home- it was made clear to us that we needed to act swiftly."

Marilla's gaze was thoughtful. "And do you expect any backlash at the college?"

Gilbert let out a long breath and clasped Anne's hand in his tightly. "Honestly, yes. There will certainly be gossip- at best, we will be seen as impulsive and thoughtless." His hazel eyes were grief-stricken as he looked at the woman who had adopted his wife. "I'm so sorry, Marilla. This isn't how it should have been- it isn't how we wanted it to be. But our choice was either to deal with the consequences apart, and most likely both leave our schooling behind or to tackle it together. We chose to stay together; we plan to make a real marriage of this, and to prove to everyone that we are not what they think of us right now."

Marilla watched him keenly, and nodded. In his eyes was the steadiness she needed him to have- Anne would come to no harm by his side. "May I ask why you chose to not write us about this as soon as you married? We could have been a little more prepared."

Here, Gilbert and Anne looked at each other, and Gilbert cleared his throat. "We honestly thought that you would worry more if you couldn't talk to us about it. If we hadn't been coming home in a fortnight then we would have written- or if Charlie had been well enough to spread gossip as he usually does. No doubt you've heard-"

"Measles, yes," Marilla said dryly. "His father is terribly embarrassed. Apparently, no Sloane has ever had it before."

John cleared his throat then. "Well, I think I might need a smoke, if you ladies will excuse me. Gil, want to give me some company?"

Gilbert nodded reluctantly, and soon Anne was left in the room with the two women. She tried to smile, seeing Amelia still trying to process this news.

"Well- I- well," Amelia said feebly, and turned to Anne with a deep breath. "Anne, dear- I always hoped that it would be you. That is to say- _congratulations_ , darling."

Marilla took in Anne's now swimming eyes. "Anne?"

The words seemed to spill out, then. "I'm so sorry," she choked. "Marilla, Mrs Blythe, I'm sorry that it wasn't how you would all have liked- I'm sorry that this will make talk- I'm sorry that you didn't get to have a proper wedding for us-"

Mrs Blythe seemed to get her second wind now, and she came to sit beside Anne, placing her arm around her. "Well, you and Gilbert never did things the easy way, did you?" She brushed the red hair back from her forehead and turned to Marilla. " _So_. Since we are not planning an elaborate wedding for this pair, we will have to see what can be done to celebrate their marriage now."

"Mrs Blythe, this will create a lot of unsavoury gossip- perhaps now is not the time-"

Marilla cleared her throat. "No, now is _precisely_ the time to show that we support your decision," she stated crisply. "And we do. While I am relieved that you and Gilbert did not exactly elope, it will be seen as such- and a little family support will go a long way in this community."

Anne shivered. "I can't imagine Mrs Lynde ever being supportive about this."

Marilla sat back in her seat, meeting Amelia's eyes shrewdly. "I wouldn't worry about Rachel, Anne. I think if you sit her down this afternoon and tell her exactly what you told us, you'll find that she will be slightly more understanding. Plenty of folks have started off from worse places, I can assure you."

Amelia reached a hand up to stroke Anne's flushed cheek. "Dear, are you alright? I can't imagine that this was easy for you-"

To her amusement, Anne gave a faint choke of hysterical laughter, thus confirming her words.

Gilbert and his father chose that moment to return to the room, and the new husband eyed his wife carefully, relieved to see that his mother was beside her.

John was swift to draw the attention to practical matters, sitting himself down in Matthew's old chair, his hands clasped across his chest. "So- what are your immediate plans?"

Gilbert looked at Anne for confirmation, and at her nod, he faced his father. "We intend to finish college," he said quietly. "Our finances were in order for this academic year in any case, and we had both planned to find work this summer- that will pay for the year to come."

Marilla looked at the pair in consternation. "And what of rent, food-"

"All part of what we had saved for," Anne reassured her. "When either of us planned for the year, living expenses were included- and we are quite good at budgeting carefully by now."

The older Mrs Blythe hesitated. "Forgive me, I know this is indelicate, but how do you plan to not begin a family right away?"

Gilbert saw that Anne had turned away in embarrassment, and swallowed, carefully avoiding Marilla's eyes. "By remaining- er- _celibate-_ until we have finished college."

John Blythe seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face and tried to clear his throat. "So- that is- you haven't actually-" There were two red faces at this point, and two definite ' _no's_ that made the older generation smile furtively. After an uncomfortable silence, John nodded smilelessly. "Well, there's plenty of time for that later, I suppose. I assume the two of you have found an apartment."

Gilbert nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "Yes. There is a cottage behind my boarding house- my landlady was kind enough to rent it to us for the next year. It's close to the college, it's- er, watertight," he said doubtfully.

Anne had gathered herself at this point and smiled bravely. "It's small, but then we will be busy with our coursework- we won't have hours to spend cleaning it. It's furnished too, and I think we have everything that we need."

Gilbert nodded. "Our address is the same as my old one, mother."

Amelia worried her lip. "And is it- _nice_?"

This was a sore point for Gilbert, and so Anne fielded this one. "It certainly has much scope for the imagination, Mrs Blythe. We understand that it was- _ahem_ \- recently renovated. In the spring we hope to plant a little garden, and we are welcome to tidy up the place between our classes if we wish."

Marilla spoke up then, her eyes on Gilbert's mother. "They will need more blankets-" she said thoughtfully.

"And linen. How are your curtains, dear?"

Anne's eyes widened in consternation at her husband. "I- I think we have brown ones?"

For some minutes the discussion went on this way, and Anne and Gilbert merely sat back watching them in bewilderment. After a time she looked down, seeing that her hand was in his once again, and that he was stroking the back of it with his thumb. He _did_ have nice hands.

The older Mrs Blythe then turned to her husband with a determined smile. "Well, John, I think it is high time for us to visit Kingsport, don't you think?"

He frowned slightly and then nodded. "Sure seems that way." Anne caught Gilbert's eye in some horror, and John's easy tone was quick to reassure them. "Oh, don't worry about us, we'll find a hotel nearby, I think. No point squeezing us in when you don't have the room. It's been years since I've been off the island- and we'll be able to bring some more of your things with us."

With that, all was accepted. Marilla, John and Amelia began discussing plans for the holidays at once, remembering to refer to the shell-shocked young couple from time to time. The decision was made that Green Gables and the Blythe family would spend Christmas night together and that Anne and Gilbert were free to split their days between the two households. No comment was made when the pair assured everyone that they were content to stay in their respective households for this holiday, although Marilla assumed with a slight sigh that that would change soon enough.

The teapot needed refreshing by this point, and it wasn't long before Gilbert's father announced that he needed to get back to the farm- he had some fences that needed work before the snow set in.

When the adults were talking outside, Anne collapsed against the kitchen wall. "Let's never do that again," she said, exhausted, and Gilbert chuckled. He took her hands in his own and pulled her close, unaware that the kitchen door gave the parents a clear view of their closeness.

"Cheer up, the worst is over," he said cheerfully. "Until the next time we need to shock them with news."

Anne snorted, pleasing him greatly when she looked up at him, relaxing. "In the future, I vote that any children we have should announce their own arrival with their grandparents, don't you think?"

Gilbert chuckled. "They all took it better than I would have thought- we shouldn't be surprised by that, really. They did raise us, after all."

Anne looked at him wistfully. "It's all out in the open, now. Are you sorry you did this?"

He stepped close again, brushing back the red curl from her forehead. "Not even a little. You?"

Anne didn't answer, but she smiled and accepted the warm hug he gave her.

* * *

The three adults were observing them thoughtfully, and Marilla's stern face softened. "Well, they look contented enough, despite the circumstances. To be honest, I didn't think she would be at this point any time soon."

Amelia turned to the two old classmates. "They want to finish their schooling, then that is what we will help them to do," she said firmly. "We'll have to see what we can do for them- I think a party is in order; and I have an idea that the two of them are being deliberately evasive about this cottage of theirs." She frowned. "And I must check the size of Anne's ring finger."

As she bustled towards the kitchen door that framed the young couple, there was a brief moment when John's twinkling eyes met Marilla's, and the old school friends shared an amused look. "So. My son actually married 'Rilla Cuthbert's girl. It's a funny old world, isn't it?"

Marilla looked back at Anne, seeing the slight smile on her face as Gilbert's mother took the hand that held her small wedding ring. She chuckled, then. "It certainly is."


	12. Chapter 12, Ripples of Change

**Chapter 12**

On the evening after Anne and Gilbert arrived in Avonlea, the couple sat around the big table at Green Gables to tell the twins the news. Mrs Lynde sat in the rocking chair working at her sewing, her sharp eyes watching the children's reaction. She clucked her tongue quietly, as Davy began asking questions, while his sister sat silent and shy before the big fellow that Minnie May had once called ' _adorable_ '.

"But you didn't have a wedding. Milty's ma said it's not proper if you don't-"

"We _did_ have a wedding, Davy," Anne explained patiently. "It was just in Kingsport two weeks ago."

"Then why weren't we there? We could have come, couldn't we?"

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Well, it was rather sudden-"

"Did you get Anne into trouble or something?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from the older women, and Anne paled as Gilbert choked violently on his tea. "Certainly _not_ , Davy! Whatever would put such an idea in your head?"

Davy scratched his nose, puzzled. "Milty said his cousin's aunt had to get married fast, 'cause she got into trouble. What did she do that was so bad? I want to know."

Anne's cheeks were scarlet, and her voice was firm. "This is an _entirely_ different thing, Davy. Gilbert and I chose to be married, and we- we just didn't wait until we came home."

"I still want to know _why_."

Gilbert had found his voice by now. "Because Anne and I care about each other, Davy. More than anyone else. And we wanted to be together, not apart."

Davy frowned. "Then where are you going to live? Are you coming back here?"

Anne gave Mrs Lynde an uneasy glance, as they told the twins about their home in Kingsport, and the fact that they were not staying together these holidays.

* * *

She had done as Marilla had suggested that morning, coming into the good lady's domain and sitting down with her at her kitchen table. The older woman had been stiff at first, however she allowed Anne to explain without too many interruptions- and then Anne sat for twenty minutes with gritted teeth listening to all of the ways this situation could be avoided.

When she was done, the older woman had looked at her critically. "Well, we can't do anything to change it now, Anne- you've made your choice. And I don't suppose it's really a poor one- he is an islander, after all."

Anne gave her a faint smile. "He's Gilbert Blythe."

Rachel sniffed. "It was a pity you didn't see that years ago, if you ask me."

Anne was stung by this. "Mrs Lynde, I always saw Gilbert. He is one of my closest friends."

The older woman looked at Anne sharply. "Well, he's not a friend any longer, Anne, he's your husband. And you're going to need to learn to act like it. You don't appreciate Gilbert at his full value, that's what."

Anne choked on the cookie she was eating. "Pardon me?"

"You heard me, Miss Anne," she said imperiously. "You might be able to fool the others, but you can't fool me. You've been running away from this."

Anne placed the remainder of the biscuit on her plate with shaking fingers, swallowing. "I- we- I'm trying," she whispered.

Mrs Lynde harrumphed, and then looked at the girl with keen eyes. "Ypu know, my Myra was like you, once. She married a schoolteacher years ago- not that she made it easy for him at the time."

Anne picked up her teacup, feeling somewhat bewildered. "I- I see."

"No, you don't. Not yet," Mrs Lynde said crisply. "Sometimes we aren't ready for what life throws at us. You and Gilbert were dreadful foolish, Anne- but it doesn't mean you can't choose to make it work."

Anne gave her a half-smile. "We're depending on that, Mrs Lynde."

All in all, she reflected dryly when she was alone in her room, it hadn't been so terrible. Of course, she could have done without the lecture of the nature of man's urge for sex, and the need to repress it for their own good. Anne groaned and fell on the bed then, burying her face in her pillows. Gilbert had been every inch the gentleman she knew him to be- she didn't need the reminder that he was also every inch the red-blooded male she uneasily suspected he was. Of course, that was a good thing, wasn't it? He was passionately driven in every aspect of his life- and she could at least acknowledge that spending forever in a passionless marriage would be a terrible thing. For now, though, it wasn't the time, she told herself sternly. Any introspection about her temperamental feelings- or _his_ for that matter- would conveniently need to wait.

* * *

Back in the present, Anne looked around the table at the people who made up her family. Marilla and Mrs Lynde had both stayed quiet, allowing Anne and Gilbert to tell their news in their own fashion.

Anne looked into Davy's rebellious face and sighed. "Davy, we know that this news is very sudden for you all," she said gently. "We came home as soon as we could- and we are each staying with our families to give everyone time to get used to this. We wanted to see you all. Imagine if I had gone straight to Gilbert's parent's home with him after telling you? I wouldn't be here then."

"Bet Gil just could've come here," Davy muttered, and Gilbert's smile quirked.

"Yes, but then my parents wouldn't have seen _me_. Next time will be different, I promise- we'll probably split our holidays between the farm and Green Gables, if everyone approves. And you won't lose Anne- you just get me as a part of the family as well," he said frankly, and the smile reappeared on the lad's face.

"Well, at least you're married now, Anne- Mrs Andrews told Milty's ma that you'd likely end up a spinster, despite all that schooling."

Gilbert's jaw dropped, as Marilla spoke sharply. "Davy Keith! Stop that foolish talk immediately. If our neighbours are indiscreet, it isn't our job to repeat it. As it is, Anne's married Gilbert now, and all is as it should be. We'll have a party to celebrate their wedding soon enough."

Gilbert sighed in relief. With their parents on their side, all would be well- and a smile began to grow on his face as he looked at the twins. He had a brother and sister, for the first time in his life. He knew that Anne regarded them as such- now they would belong to him too.

He was watching his wife when she bent forward to touch Dora's plump, little hand. "Dora? Did you have any questions?" she asked softly. "You can ask us anything you like."

Dora, who looked rather as if she wanted the floor to swallow her, chanced a look at Anne's shoulder. "Did you have a wedding dress?"

There were smiles from the older people, and Anne's response was quiet. "I'll bring it home so that you can see it next summer. It's very pretty."

"She was lovely in it," Gilbert added, his eyes warm.

Davy huffed then. "So I 'spose this is what it's going to be like- girls and dresses from now on. Are you done telling us everything now?"

Marilla rolled her eyes. "I suppose a wedding has little appeal for a twelve-year-old boy," she commented dryly, and Mrs Lynde snorted.

"Yes, we're done," Anne said, amused. "No more questions?"

Davy paused. "Are you going to have to have babies now, Anne?"

"Davy," Dora squeaked unexpectedly, her cheeks red with mortification. "You're not ever supposed to talk about children."

"Why not? Milty said that people wait a couple of months after the wedding and then the girl gets fat and the doctor comes and gives them a baby- and he should know, because his ma-"

"That's quite enough, Davy," Rachel snapped, shaking out the fabric in her hands. "For goodness sake, Marilla, I told you it was high time you talked to him about these matters. Heaven knows what he's been told from the others at school- it's about time he got the real facts." She turned to Gilbert then with a calculating look, who visibly recoiled. "It might be better if he got his information from a man, in fact."

For the second time that day Anne choked on her tea, and she was grateful for Gilbert's hand patting her back as she caught her breath. Gilbert hid his own trepidation and looked at Marilla, who was doing her best not to smile.

"I think that's up to Gilbert, Rachel. You can't just tell him to do it."

"Well, he's by far the better expert, and there's no one else-"

Gilbert swallowed, thinking that he was in an un-winnable situation.

"It's fine, Marilla," Gilbert managed, wanting to end the discussion. He'd taken the beloved girl who was the very heart of this home without so much as a by-your-leave- surely, anything they asked, he should do. How hard could it be? He looked over at the puzzled face of his new brother and gulped.

"Alright, Davy- what do you say to you and I going for a- a walk tomorrow?"

The boy shrugged. "As long as we don't talk about dresses, sure."

"Fine. Totally no dresses." Gilbert, who had suddenly heard himself turned to see his wife's cheeks flush brightly, and he stood up quickly, wanting to avoid Mrs Lynde's disapproving countenance, while his wretched mind conjured up the image of Anne's pretty clothes- which he was trying very hard to not think about in the company of her family.

Or more specifically, the beloved girl _beneath_ them.

"Er- alright, then. Marilla, Mrs Lynde, it's gotten dark quickly- I don't want mother worrying. I'd better get home. Anne, I'll see you tomorrow." He gave an embarrassed nod to the room and somehow got himself out of there, grabbing his hat and coat on the way.

He could hear Anne following, but it was only on the veranda that she caught up to him breathlessly, finding him leaning against the side of the house with eyes shut, and a hot face.

"Anne, I'm sorry," he groaned. "I mean, I know I had some form of punishment coming, but giving 'the talk' to your adopted brother wasn't how I thought it would happen."

Anne had tried to stay sober as she watched him, but at the thought of the task before him she couldn't help giggling- and when he turned to her in bewilderment she broke down completely. She slid down the wall clutching her side, tears of laughter falling freely. Gilbert's smile was sheepish and at the funny gurgle she gave he began to laugh as well. He sat down beside her, pulling her hand into his as they eventually sobered.

"You don't really have to do it, Gil," Anne managed at last, wiping her eyes with a chuckle. "I can talk to him."

Gilbert grinned, enjoying being alone with her once more. "It's alright. He might take it better from another fellow. Dad talked to me when I was fifteen- about two years too late, I might add," he said wryly. "I pretended it was the first I'd heard of it."

Anne sighed as she looked out into the twilight, relaxing. "I was somewhat left to gain impressions on my own."

Gilbert turned to study her pensive face. "No one had that talk with you?"

"Well, Marilla did it partly when- well, when it became necessary." She saw Gilbert's frown, and then his face cleared.

"Oh. You mean when you first-"

She flushed, however, she continued. "Yes. As to the rest of it- the people I grew up with weren't always discreet. I probably heard a lot more than I was meant to."

Gilbert turned to study her, suddenly feeling pained on behalf of Anne, of Davy and Dora. They hadn't their own parents to talk to them about the mysteries of life- it was left to others to make them feel safe in a world that kept changing. Only too well did he remember how hard it was to find his feet when he had returned to Avonlea at thirteen. Tall and awkward, hands too big for his body, and the restlessness that never seemed to abate- he had had his father to go to, at least. He looked at the miraculous girl beside him, clasping her hand tighter.

"I don't know what you had to hear back then," he found himself saying slowly, "I don't know what anyone's told you. But- Anne, I swear that I'd never do anything to hurt you."

To his surprise, her grey eyes didn't fall, although her cheeks heated. "I know that you wouldn't." She pulled away then, standing up and brushing down her blue skirts. She reached down then to pull him to his feet, before raising herself on tiptoe to wind his forgotten scarf around his neck.

"So. Another night away from each other," he said, visibly reluctant.

Anne smiled wickedly. "Careful, Gilbert- you might give me the impression that you miss your accidental wife."

He scowled at her then. "Our marriage wasn't accidental- only the events leading up to it. Besides, I _do_. We just learned to sleep in the same bedroom- I don't fancy having to get used to it all over again when we're finally back home."

"It's only eleven days, Gil," Anne reminded him with a sigh. "We need this time with our families- and you know that we'll see each other far more than we would have if we weren't married."

Gilbert thought back to the frustration of the previous Christmas, privately agreeing with her. He placed his hat on his thick, brown curls, his hazel eyes twinkling. "You're right. Well- goodnight, my wife."

She smiled, her eyebrows rising at her title. _Two_ could play at that game. "Goodnight, _my husband._ "

He had to swallow down the longing he felt at her low voice, but his eyes were gleaming as he bent to kiss the top of her red head. Then he was gone, his firm stride carrying him down the lane into the gloam.

* * *

It was a crisp, sparkling morning when Anne walked up the path of Orchard Slope on Wednesday, pausing to appreciate the beauty of the winter's day. Her knock was met by a cacophony of noise- Minnie May's new cocker spaniel began to bark, (a beautiful dog with a perfectly horrid disposition, according to Diana), and she could hear Mrs Barry scolding Minnie May for the disturbance. Diana could be heard calling that she would be down in a minute, and it was Stephen Barry who opened the door in his overalls, his work clothes as ever contrasted against his painfully tidy hair and neatly trimmed moustache. He held out his foot to restrain the barking animal, ushering Anne inside.

"Anne, welcome," he said kindly, before scowling at the dog. "Do excuse the noise, he has yet to learn manners."

Anne smiled. "I have a cat in Kingsport, Mr Barry; I can assure you that he has no manners at all."

He ushered her toward the sitting room, and before Anne could draw a breath she was met with two silk-clad arms that were set to squeeze the life out of her. "Darling, oh, but I've missed you!" Diana cried exuberantly. "It's been the _longest_ of terms-"

Anne laughed, reaching up to remove her hat. "I only left here in September, darling Di. Is that so long when you are so blissfully occupied?"

Diana snorted, pushing Anne down into the cozy sofa. "Blissfully occupied, my foot, Anne. I am down to embroidering doilies, now- purely because there is nothing else I can do."

Anne smiled as Mrs Barry brought in the tea tray, pausing to welcome Anne and cluck over the shadows under her eyes. Diana rolled her own behind her mothers back, and when she was gone, she poured the tea herself with a droll look. "You don't know how I've envied you, Anne- it must be nice to have a sense of purpose."

Anne couldn't help but protest. "You have a wonderful one, Di."

Diana exhaled crossly. "Not yet, I don't. Anne, the wedding is six months away, and my hope chest is utterly full. I have made so much linen that the cupboard at the new house is full as well. I have embroidered tea towels, three quilts, my sheets have the most time-consuming lace that I could make for them- and I am almost finished my trousseau. And I am not doing the rest in case I get stouter in the intervening time."

Anne's grey eyes twinkled. "Well, you did want to have more than thirty-six doilies, Di. You could work on improving that total."

"There were fifty-nine at last count," Diana grumbled, with a little twinkle in her eye. "I've taken to giving them away. Do you need any to dress your home in Kingsport?"

Anne blanched. "Oh- I-"

Diana shifted her ruby coloured skirts to one side as she turned on the sofa, her dark eyes pleading. "Anne, please tell me there is a greater world out there- tell me everything. I am so tired of life being an endless series of teacups and thimbles, and the women of this town telling me to make the most of being engaged since I would likely find marriage no better. I need you to tell me that life hasn't stopped just because _I_ have."

Anne flushed, her fingers automatically going to the chain around her neck. "I- I do have some news for you, Di."

Diana sat up with a squeal. " _Brilliant_! Tell me everything!"

"I- well, it's a little hard to begin," said poor Anne.

Diana waved away her concern. "Is your news school-related or... _romantic_?"

Anne hedged for a moment. "I suppose you could say both," she murmured doubtfully.

Diana's eyes widened, and she tried to contain her excitement. "That's wonderful! And is it someone I know, or someone new?"

There was a tiny pause, then. "It's someone you know."

"Oh! _Please_ tell me that the romantic part of this is more important than the academic side-"

Anne shrugged her shoulders jerkily- and something of her nerves seemed to penetrate her friend's conscious. Diana worked to breathe slowly. "Alright. Anne, darling, please tell me that the subject of the romantic issue is the very person I am hoping it is-"

She held her breath as Anne's face turned pink. "It's Gilbert, Di," she admitted quietly, before her bosom friend erupted from her chair in a crimson hurricane, screaming as she threw her arms around Anne's slim body.

"I knew it, I _knew_ it! I knew you would figure it out! Oh, Anne darling, what did he say? How did he tell you? Did he propose? Has he gone to Marilla yet? Oh, of course she would say yes- although she doesn't believe that he needs to ask, since you are almost twenty-one, now. Oh, Anne, you will look like an angel in your bridesmaid gown at the wedding, standing right there beside him- when people finally see the two of you together, they will hardly believe that you aren't the bride and groom-"

Anne's lips were numb as she tried to interrupt Diana's flow of chatter. "Di-"

Diana seemed to rein herself in then, noticing how uneasy Anne was. "Forgive me, dearest- you were telling me about it, not the other way around."

Anne drew in a shaking breath and tried to smile. "It's alright. It's just rather hard to put into words."

Diana sat back on the sofa, her look loving. "Just start from the beginning, Anne. You know that I'll listen."

"Thank you." She smiled, her chin rising courageously. "You won't believe this, Di- I find myself hardly believing it, sometimes-" she seemed to shake off her distraction then, and turned to her friend. "Well, it is about Gilbert- and yes, we are together now." Anne found her hand clasped to Diana's ample bosom with a sigh, her friend's eyes glowing with happiness. "We- we decided it rather suddenly- because something happened- there was an accident-"

Diana sighed happily. "And I suppose that showed you that you loved him! Oh, Anne, how _romantic_."

Anne's brow lowered. "Not exactly," she said feebly, knowing that the worst revelation was yet to come. "We- talked about things, and then Gilbert proposed-"

"Was it terribly romantic?"

Anne gave a small smile, remembering the awkward way Gilbert had dropped to his knees, and the look of annoyance on his face as his shoulder hurt him. "It was very heartfelt- and he was so determined to make everything better," she said softly. She had almost forgotten that Diana did not know the main point of the conversation between them, until her friend's next question.

"And so the two of you are really truly engaged now?"

Anne felt the colour recede from her face. "No, Di."

Diana sat back, her eyes wide with concern. "But Anne, you said-"

"Di, we're not engaged _now_ ," she said softly. "It's a little more complicated than that. Gil and I were married two and a half weeks ago."

The black eyes blinked, and Anne held her breath as Diana smiled. "Darling, you've already surprised me- you needn't tease me as well."

"I'm not teasing you, dearest."

Diana's stunned face showed her scepticism. "But- you're both in college. You're the smartest people I know. You would never be so foolish."

Anne swallowed hard. "You- you might be surprised."

She froze as Diana stood up, her face losing the rest of its colour.

"Anne, what happened? Did you sleep with him?"

Anne stood up then, agitated. "No, _no_. Of course not, Diana. But Gilbert was injured- and there was no one there to care for him-"

Diana held up her hand, shaking her head. "I should have known," she said, her voice trembling. "You were so adamant that there was nothing between you- and all this time you just were hiding it from me-"

"I meant what I said at the time, Diana," Anne insisted shakily.

"I understand that you didn't want everyone to gossip about your feelings for him- but why would you not tell _me_ the truth? Did you think that I wouldn't be happy for you? I gave you so many chances to tell me that you loved him!"

"Diana, I care about Gil; I always have. But this was completely unexpected-"

"And yet you say that you're married to him now," Diana said, turning back to her slowly. "Not courting, not engaged, but _married_. Why _now_? Gilbert has no job, and heaven knows the Blythes don't have money- why would he suggest something so foolish at this moment? And why on earth would you agree?"

"Di, it was the only way," Anne exclaimed desperately. "We would have been asked to leave college- and there is no way that he could become a doctor if he left now. I'm not saying I was ready for this, but his future was more important than whatever I felt."

Diana's face was pale, and she shook her head. "You were compromised, weren't you?"

A flash of colour covered Anne's cheeks. "Diana, if you would just listen-"

The black haired girl shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. "No. You're smarter than this, Anne. You wouldn't have let it happen if you didn't want him. But why couldn't you wait? He's waited for you for years."

Anne drew herself up, shaking. "Diana, neither of us had any intention for this to happen. The accident-"

"No. No accident could do this," Diana said in a low voice. "You've been in love, and you didn't have the decency to tell your closest friend when she asked. You didn't tell me that you were _marrying_ him without any of us being there for you. I've waited for two and a half years for the man I love, but you couldn't wait until the end of college- you couldn't even wait two and a half weeks to come home for the holidays. If his dreams had meant something to you, you would have _waited_."

Anne's grey eyes sparkled with hurt. "Gilbert's dreams mean everything to me, Di," she whispered harshly. "You don't know what I have sacrificed to preserve them. Our marriage was a necessity, which is something that both of our families have tried to understand, even at cost to themselves. Gilbert and I are going to finish out our degrees together- and we will start properly then."

Diana gave her a brittle look then, and for the first time, Anne saw the shadow of Lenore Barry in her daughter's face.

"Well, it seems that Fred and I will need to find someone else to take your place in our wedding, Anne. I can't have a married bridesmaid, after all. I hope you will both still come to the wedding anyway. For the record, I- I always pictured you as the next Mrs Blythe. I hope you will be very happy together."

"Di," Anne pleaded, a hot tear falling down her cheek.

"Anne, I'm terribly sorry, but I have to go now," Diana said, refusing to look at Anne now. "Fred was wanting me to drive over to the house this afternoon- something about a new washstand he had installed last week. Perhaps we might talk about this after the holidays. May I drop you home to Green Gables on my way? Or is your husband expecting you?"

Anne recoiled as if Diana had slapped her. She got to her feet and pulled her coat on with shaking hands. "No. Thank you. You know how I love to be outside when I come home."

She left Diana with a feeling of numbness. Her friend's false brightness was impossible to take, and as she heard the heavy door shut behind her, she shook, wishing sickly that she had accepted Gilbert's offer to accompany her. Of all of the things she had worried about, she had never feared Diana's reaction- perhaps blindly, she had expected her to see the matter as the girls had done. There had never before been a quarrel between them before- and yet how else to account for the iciness of her friend's manner?

Anne left the Haunted Wood behind her and stumbled her way through the barren landscape in misery. Gilbert would come for supper that night- until then, she would need to face this alone. She was relieved to find no one at home at Green Gables: Marilla had taken the twins to Carmody for her Christmas shopping, and Mrs Lynde was visiting the McPherson's. Anne went straight to her bedroom, sitting down on the low, white bed, her eyes full of unimaginable pain. She swallowed, telling herself that it would be fine. Diana was hurt and upset, she was simply taken by surprise. The logic could have soothed her- and yet it was the memory of her friend's angry face that seemed to shatter her heart. The cry that left her throat seemed to come from the heart-hungry eleven-year-old she had been, the one who had sworn eternal friendship to Diana over a garden path.

* * *

Gilbert found her an hour later. His mother had been occupied by flapping around the house, amassing a pile of all of the things the young couple could need for the months ahead in the cottage. Gilbert had not been able to answer the questions fired at him regarding his bride's preferences, and he had promised that he would ask her as soon as possible, thinking guiltily that if he went to Green Gables there would at least be peace there- he hadn't slept much in the night previous in his old room.

He could hear nothing as he entered the kitchen, however, he could see Anne's damp jacket hanging on the hook- she was here. When he had exhausted the downstairs he climbed the stairs slowly, looking around in curiosity at the half of the house he had never seen. Her room was on the east of the house- he knew that much. As he climbed, he heard the sound of a faint sob and hastened his steps to find her lying on her bed, crying as if her heart had broken- and perhaps it had. He was beside her in a moment, his hands reaching for her instantly; smoothing the wet red hair from her face, and stroking her shaking shoulders. When she curled into a ball, he moved onto the bed then, shifting her so that her head lay in his lap, murmuring comforting words as she cried.

It was a long time before the storm abated, and his own heart was in tatters as he waited it out. When she was calmer, and he thought that she could hear him, he spoke.

"So it didn't go so well with Diana," he stated quietly.

Anne shook her head, sitting up to reach into her bedside table for the embroidered handkerchiefs that lay there. "No," she choked. "I expected your mother to accuse me of ruining your life- Marilla to be disappointed by my behaviour- but I never thought that Diana wouldn't understand. Gil, the look on her face when I told her," she said, a fresh sob breaking from her throat again.

Gilbert held her close, not wanting her to see his own anger at the situation. He spoke gently. "Sweetheart, maybe she's just in shock. She might need time."

Anne's face crumpled, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "She was so hurt by it, Gil. I tried to explain, but she seems to think that I was keeping secrets- about _us_ from her. I didn't even get to tell her about the accident."

The two of them sat in silence for a long time, his arms holding her securely. After a while Gilbert smoothed the hair from her wet cheeks, his hands cupping her face. "Do you want us to go home, sweetheart?"

For a brief moment, Anne thought of the little house waiting for them in Kingsport. Their home was _safe_. She lifted her head then, and shook it slowly. "No, Gil. Our families don't deserve that. I won't do that to them."

He smiled, marvelling again at her bravery. "And if we could take them all with us?"

"Then I would jump on the four o'clock train with you right now."

He chuckled, and his touch was gentle as he cradled her head on his good shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Anne. I should have been there."

Anne shook her head, her grey eyes dull. "No, Gil. You shouldn't. It was mine to face." She hunted out a dry spot on her handkerchief, blinking up at her husband with swollen eyes. "Why are you here so early?"

He grinned. "Because Mother is convinced you and I are living without any creature comforts- so she's sending plenty home with us. China, linen, preserves- I have no idea how she plans for us to transport it."

"She isn't angry with us, is she?"

He looked down to see her lips quivering again, and wrapped her in his arms. " _No_ , sweetheart. We knew they would be disappointed- but it didn't last, did it?" he reminded her compassionately. "Our families are rallying behind us- and as for everyone else, they'll see eventually. We're going to be alright. And Diana will come around. I would guess that some of her anger isn't about us."

Anne sat back, swallowing hard. "What do you mean?"

Gilbert sighed, reaching up to loosen his tie. "Anne, she wasn't there with us. She wasn't a part of us getting to this point. If she'd been there with us in Kingsport, you know she would have been planning the wedding along with Phil and the others."

"I wish she _had_ been," Anne mumbled.

He nodded, his hazel eyes loving. "I know. But Anne, she doesn't know college life. She hasn't lived away from Avonlea. It's not her fault, but I don't think she has any idea what we are up against. I don't know if she even understands what we are working for. And we _are_ working for something," he reminded her. "Let's give her a few days, sweetheart. It's going to be alright." He turned to her on the little white bed, and his look was gentle. "But in the meantime, we're about to have our first Christmas as husband and wife. We need to celebrate with our families, even if the others don't understand yet. And my mother is so happy to be having your family over for Christmas night- she's hemstitching new napkins for it- whatever that means."

Anne chuckled then, sitting up to run her fingers through her now messy curls. "It means she is a wonderful hostess." She let out a shaky sigh, and then suddenly paused. "Gil?"

"Mmm?"

"All of these things your mother is assembling for the Mushroom-"

"Yes?"

"Where on earth will we put it all?"


	13. Chapter 13, Just Between You and Me

**Chapter 13**

Early in the afternoon of their second day at home, Gilbert looked out of the kitchen window to see a couple pausing at the Green Gables gate. Even from a distance, he could tell who they were, and he got up with a grim look. He'd been expecting them to come- only he'd hoped for a little more time. Personally, he hoped they would arrive at Green Gables to find them elsewhere. Anne had been distraught by the events of the disastrous visit, and he was loathe to allow anything to make it worse. He'd managed to convince her to rest, heaven only knew how; and last he'd checked she was sound asleep, the evidence of tears still on her face.

When the old door knocker sounded, Gilbert opened the door to greet Diana Barry and Fred Wright. Gilbert nodded at his friend before addressing Diana.

"Diana, Fred; Merry Christmas to you both."

Diana's cheeks were a rosy red, and she drew in an anxious breath as she took in his protective stance. "I don't suppose you are very pleased to see me."

"I'm not particularly inclined to be gracious right now, no," Gilbert commented mildly.

Diana paused, then. "May I speak with Anne?"

"She's asleep."

Diana blinked in surprise. "Anne never sleeps during the day."

Gilbert closed the door behind the couple, nodding at Fred's greeting. "Well, she did today," he said tersely.

Diana slipped off her gloves, her black eyes showing her hurt. "Gilbert, you gave us all no warning."

"Well, we didn't have any either," Gilbert snapped, keeping his voice low. "I understand that this throws your wedding plans out, and I'm sorry, but as Anne tried to explain to you, we had very little time to get used to this new state of affairs. And frankly, it is taking an enormous toll on her."

"Then why do it?" Diana asked angrily. "If this isn't what either of you wanted-"

"Because this was the only _choice_! It was the only way to both remain at college!"

Diana would later recall with shame the way that she stomped her foot in frustration, but for the moment she was oblivious. " _I don't know what that means_ ," she said furiously. "What made the two of you decide to keep whatever is between you a secret?"

Gilbert looked across at Fred then, his jaw unmistakably stern, and Fred put up his hands. "I told Di that she needed to talk to Anne- to you both, really," he said, his voice calm. "Gil, you don't answer to us. But I'd like to think that we've been friends for long enough that you can tell us what actually happened."

"Anne already tried to do that."

Diana closed her eyes, and she tried to control her shaking voice. "And this time I will hear you both out."

Gilbert hesitated. "You'll need to wait until Anne is up to it. I won't rush her. It does affect your wedding, so I suppose we do owe you an explanation- but if you are going to accuse or make her feel worse about this-"

Diana choked back her disappointment at his words. "Why would you think I would ever want to hurt her?"

There was a step on the old staircase then, and Diana halted to turn and greet a very pale Anne in the doorway. She couldn't help but flinch at the way Anne moved to Gilbert's side, seemingly away from her. She tried to smile at her friend.

"I'm sorry, Anne- I reacted poorly this morning. I wondered if we would be able to talk about everything now."

Gilbert's hand was being squeezed rather uncomfortably in Anne's anxiety, and yet he made no outward sign of discomfort. when the silence grew long, he spoke. "Suppose we sit down and have tea," he commented briskly. "Fred, you'll help me make it, right?"

Fred gave his old friend a queer look. Since when did the men do that? But- "Uh- sure. You ladies carry on."

Once seated in the parlour, Diana clenched her hands together as Anne silently stoked the fire. She didn't appear angry- only tired. This pierced Diana more than anything else, and her voice was gentle. "Anne, I'm sorry for what I said."

"It's alright, Diana."

This in no way eased her friend's mind, and the conversation was stilted until Gilbert came in with a reasonably stocked tea tray. Fred sat down beside Diana with a sigh of relief, and she watched Gilbert and Anne curiously. Diana was flummoxed about how comfortable Anne was with Gilbert now- something she had not seen between the pair in some time. And yet what did she expect? Gilbert was her _husband_ , now.

Diana barely processed the way that Gilbert took her hand in his tightly, as for the second time in as many days, an exhausted Anne began to relate the story. She frowned, concentrating hard as the couple talked. The debacle in the medical tent, the dean's office. The culture of Redmond, and the professors who played a role in this drama- and she caught Fred's eye in surprise at the evident synchronicity between the pair.

Fred saw more humour than she did in the situation- and yet she couldn't honestly say that she was surprised at their impulsive behaviour. It was imprudent, unwise- and yet so like the two of them, and the way they had once roamed field and shore without any care for propriety. Diana looked at Anne now, puzzled. She'd sworn over and over that she didn't have feelings for Gilbert- and yet she had certainly agreed to this marriage. Could this really just be about Gilbert's ambitions?

Gilbert, she noticed walked a fine line between explaining the events of the past month- admitting their foolishness- and yet with no apology whatsoever in his manner. He was very protective, she noticed- and she cringed at the thought that Gilbert meant to protect Anne from _her_. Almost she was angry at him for setting himself between Anne and she- until her own words the previous day echoed uncomfortably in her mind.

"And you plan to continue your studies as normal?" she asked, subdued.

"Yes." Gilbert looked at Anne then, and Diana blinked in shock at the understanding between them. "And we have to live somewhere, eat and work- we're just doing it together now."

Fred sat back with a big sigh. "You know what they're all going to say," he said quietly.

Gilbert's hand clenched, but Diana watched in fascination as Anne placed her hand on Gilbert's arm quietly while her eyes turned toward Fred. "Yes. We do know. We face that at college as well as here. However, if we hadn't married, the same would also be said."

The look of concern on Diana's face grew. "Anne, surely an elopement will be more difficult to explain than you simply leaving college."

Gilbert saw the frustration in Anne at her friend's words, and gave her hand a squeeze. "Not really, Diana. I would need to find work- I wouldn't be able to go back to Redmond again. I wouldn't be able to get into another college, if I left under such an accusation. I would find it difficult to find a well-paying school that would hire me if word got out- and I would most likely need to go a long way from Redmond to work- even from the island."

"And that wasn't acceptable," Gilbert added flatly. "Anne would be academically, financially penalized for a mistake that belonged to both of us- the college would take away my scholarships, but they wouldn't actually make me leave."

Diana frowned. "Why not you as well?"

Anne fielded this question. "Because men are allowed minor indiscretions," she said calmly. "Women are treated with suspicion from the outset- there can't even be the hint of a scandal. The girls and I are in the minority at Redmond- and there are still men who believe that women have no place in the academic world, even when our marks surpass their own."

"And Anne's always have," Gilbert added, composed.

Diana's look was horrified. "But that's so unfair."

Anne gave a dry smile. "Quite." She sat back on the sofa carefully. "If I left, I would prove them right. We didn't decide this lightly. Gilbert and I weighed up every possibility- we spoke with people we trusted, which admittedly is few at the moment- and believe it or not, this is the most logical choice. The news will get out if it's going to get out- at least together, we can navigate it. Some people will always believe that we were compromised. Professor Daniels told Professor Hallett that we were engaged- it saved us from immediate expulsion. Our marriage was the condition that we weren't penalized in any other way- and it had to be completed in a week. We don't want to give up our ambitions- not when we worked so hard to get to this point."

Fred looked at the pair of them speculatively. "And you didn't let anyone here know?"

Gilbert sat back beside his wife, his voice even. "Mail from Kingsport takes just over a week to reach Avonlea- providing there are no delays with the crossing. If we'd written when we made our decision, you would have received it _after_ the wedding- and there would only have been one letter you could send us in reply before we were here, leaving no time for us to respond to any concerns. Now, suppose we _did_ write- everyone would have panicked and assumed that Anne was most likely pregnant, wouldn't they?"

Anne's cheeks were hot, and there was a mutinous look in her grey eyes that alarmed Diana. "Would they really have assumed that if you explained it?"

"What did you assume, Di?" Anne asked dully. "We thought we stood a better chance if we told the people who mattered in person. We didn't think a letter would suffice- perhaps we were wrong in that regard. But- it doesn't matter now. People are going to think what they will think- and it will simply take time to prove that they are wrong."

Diana looked at the young couple, her mind in a whirl. Oh, Gilbert Blythe was clearly in love with Anne- and she must have felt something for him to accept. She looked more natural with Gilbert than she had seen in some time- and yet there wasn't the glow of the happy bride about her. Diana looked at the way Anne clung to Gilbert's hand, instinctively knowing that they were pulling away from those around them- perhaps that was natural, in view of the world they were facing. She suppressed the lump in her throat as she looked across at Fred. For the first time, their own wait didn't hurt- they would be ready for their marriage when it came. Anne and Gilbert couldn't possibly be ready now- and she wondered if they would miss out on something precious.

To her surprise, Anne turned to Gilbert then, quietly asking him if he would mind leaving Diana and her alone to talk. Diana could see the hesitation on his face to leave her, but he accepted- and he was the one to suggest that Fred and he go and check on the horse in the barn.

When they had left, Diana crossed the room to sit beside Anne, asking the question that she should have asked earlier.

"Anne, are you alright?"

There was an odd spark in Anne's grey eyes then. "Define ' _alright_ '."

"No, don't do that with me." Diana saw her pale, and gave her a piercing look. "I'm sorry. I said things I never should have- and you have every right to be angry at me. I want to understand. Please don't shut me out now because of my foolish words."

Anne's lips trembled, and she was silent for a time. Then- "No. I'm not alright. I hate the gossip- the insinuations- and- Di, if _you_ could respond that way, won't everyone else be the same? I trapped us both- and I can't do anything to change it."

Diana drew in a deep breath. "Do you wish you said no?"

Anne was silent for a time. "I keep asking myself that."

"And?"

"No. I don't." She looked back to see Diana's confused look, and she shrugged, her eyes glistening. "I couldn't leave Gilbert. He doesn't deserve to lose his chance- he deserves everything good in the world."

Diana saw more in her words than Anne would admit, and swallowed with unexpected emotion. "And so- how are you with having to live with him?"

Anne's lashes lowered, a look that made her friend's eyebrows rise in surprise. "He's honestly the bright spot of all of this," she admitted. "I would never have guessed that we would begin to adapt so quickly. He is gentlemanly and kind, and he- he's the very best of men."

A small smile began to creep over Diana's face. "You really do like him."

Anne chuckled, sheepishly. "I always liked him- after I stopped _not_ liking him, in any case."

"Do- do you love him?"

Anne's movements stilled. "Perhaps one day, Di. Jo- the minister- he suggested that I embrace the possibility of choosing it- instead of expecting it to drop from the sky."

Diana couldn't stop the tears from forming, and she reached over to pull her friend into her arms. "I'm sorry, Anne, I'm so very sorry," she said shakily. "I wanted you to marry Gilbert, but you deserved to meet your brooding, melancholy hero too-"

Anne pulled away from her after a minute, and blinked rapidly. " _When I became an adult, I put away childish things_ ," she quoted softly. "It may be paraphrasing, somewhat, but it's true. Oh- and ironically, Gilbert and I did meet him last week."

Diana froze. "Who?"

"The imaginary suitor. He's new to our class at Redmond- his name is Royal Gardner. He's everything we used to imagine he would be. Rich, melancholy, handsome and even broods over poetry." To Diana's surprise, she saw Anne's smile twist painfully, and she shrugged before drawing in a deep breath. "And yet, somehow, despite everything, I believe I did the right thing."

Diana's jaw was open. "Really?"

Anne's smile was real, this time. "Would a melancholy hero manage to make me laugh about this situation? Would he accept being poor for the moment, being gossiped about, and still manage to smile in the ugliest home imaginable in the mornings?" Her look was thoughtful, and Diana watched her, fascinated. "Would he tease me like Gilbert does when I'm worried, and then hold me when anything- including _him_ \- makes me cry?" Diana's hands went to her heart, and her mouth was unashamedly trembling. "I mean- it would have been- _nice_ ," Anne faltered then, "in another life, to fall in love and be carried away on a cloud of romance- and it _hurts_ to give up my dreams, it hurts to have people think less of us- but I don't think the heroes of our fantasies would be the support that Gilbert is. I don't know if he would have the stamina for better or for worse- but I already know that Gilbert does."

Diana swallowed, cautiously approaching the barrier that Anne had erected years ago, in talking about her relationship with Avonlea's finest son. "Anne- you _do_ know why he's like that, don't you?"

Her friend shrugged. "Because he is a good man," she said decidedly. "The very best."

Diana nodded doubtfully. " _Ye-ees,_ I suppose so-"

Anne chuckled. "Excepting your Fred, of course." She sighed, absently playing with the stitching on the antimacassar. "We're not really ready for anything else right now, Di," Anne admitted. "We had to rush into this so quickly- we need time. We need to focus on our studies. I- I suppose the next eighteen months will give us a good foundation to begin with, when we graduate. We- can begin properly then. Right now, I suppose we are friends who share a house- later, perhaps there will be more."

Diana sat back with a frown. "Anne, are you telling me that I _won't_ be able to go to my married best friend for advice in a few months time?"

Anne gave a dry laugh, sitting back as well. "You and Fred are the experienced couple, Di. Gilbert and I aren't particularly sure of anything, right now."

Diana smiled. "You're both fast learners. I've no doubt that you will catch up quickly." She looked at Anne with a twinkle in her dark eyes. "Your children will be exceptional, you know."

Anne covered her face with her hands. "Di, we aren't talking about anything of the kind, yet."

Diana raised her head to make sure that the men were nowhere nearby, and turned back to Anne with an intense look. "But how will you avoid-"

Anne's flushed face was expressive, and Diana gasped. " _Oh_! So you haven't-"

Anne shook her head, her look pleading.

"Oh." Diana's lip was tucked between her teeth as she glanced at her friend. "I- I wondered how you planned to finish college, with being married, and all."

"It's a good decision, Di. I told you, we need time." She was annoyed to find her face growing hotter, and she saw that Diana was almost bursting with curiosity. "We _do_ share a room- but we have different beds," Anne muttered, and the girl beside her began to giggle.

"Won't _that_ be fun later on!"

"It's terribly awkward," Anne said blushingly. "We barely slept for the first few days- and it still only takes a cough or a snore to wake me instantly."

"So _now_ you need to work on falling in love with someone you already share a bedroom with."

"That's the general idea, yes," Anne said feebly, and as she met Diana's sparkling eyes, the two girls began to laugh.

* * *

When the couple left later that afternoon, it was with a promise that Anne and Gilbert would come for supper at the Barry's house sometime after Christmas. When they had gone, Gilbert was there beside Anne, and she turned to him with a sigh. He enfolded her in his arms and kissed the top of her red head.

"Are you alright?"

Anne scowled from her place against his shoulder. "Why is that the first thing everyone asks me?"

She felt him chuckle. "Because it's been a rough couple of days- weeks, really."

Anne pulled away from him then to don an apron, before gathering up the tea things. "Not only for me. Does anyone ask if _you_ are alright?"

"Are you asking?" Gilbert asked, leaning against the kitchen counter as she worked.

"Yes."

"Then I'm fine." At her look of disbelief, he shrugged. "I'm right where I want to be- with you. We're facing it together just like we planned." He stopped, then, his eyes shadowed. "Anne, do you know what would have happened if you'd left college?" Anne's looked at him, puzzled, and he took up a dish towel to help. "You're not the only one with an imagination. I _know_ where we'd be. You would have come back here for Christmas, and not had a way to explain why you weren't going back. You wouldn't want to see me. It would kill me to watch you hurting from a distance, and I doubt you'd be able to see me go back to Redmond afterwards without being upset with me. We'd grow apart, and I'd be forever associated with your hurt-"

"Gilbert, _stop_ that!" He blinked at her faintly hysterical tone, and then she was in his arms, her red head on his chest again. He couldn't help but smile at the way she hid her face. "We don't need to go there now," she said, her voice muffled. "We chose _this_ way."

He chuckled as he held her. "Well, I know _that_. It's just interesting, I suppose. When you said no, in the orchard-"

"You didn't actually _ask_ me then."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. When you said that you couldn't do it, that's exactly what I saw happening to us."

"And yet you let me go." She stepped back to see the pain dart through his hazel eyes, and she swallowed. "I had to do that, you know," she admitted. "I would always have wondered if I'd done the right thing- if I'd only said yes because I was afraid." Gilbert only nodded, the words sticking in his throat. "And- I suppose I needed to know that you could let me go." At his understandable confusion, Anne placed the teacups in the water with a little sigh. "You allowed me my choice. You didn't manipulate- or get angry- or tell me that I was foolish for saying no. "

Gilbert's brow lowered. "I wouldn't do that-"

She chuckled, then. "Of course not. That's why I told you I would marry you."

For just a moment he folded his arms, one brown eyebrow raised. "So I had to let you go to marry you."

She paused nervously, and her grey eyes turned to meet his. "Yes."

To her relief, a little smile was on his face, and he took the plate from her hand, unconsciously dripping greasy water over the wooden floor. "I suppose I had to walk away too. I would have spent our life wondering if you were with me because you chose me, or because we were forced to."

Anne turned away to mop up the mess he had made on the floor, her eyes falling before his. "So it's important to us that we both chose this."

He bent down so that Anne was looking at him, and gave her the twisted smile that made her remember with a jolt just how handsome Gilbert Blythe was. She swallowed, suddenly very aware of his proximity.

"Just so you know, Anne- I'd _always_ have chosen you."

* * *

Christmas dawned with a powdering of light snow that had fallen through the night, and Anne awoke early to a sound of light pattering against her window. She smiled at the thought of a white Christmas- until the pattering became a harder thud, and a bewildered Anne moved back the curtains to see a pebble strike her window- and Gilbert standing in a pile of snow, waving merrily in the early morning light. She rolled her eyes at his cheek, even now unable to hold back a smile.

Outside, Gilbert grinned, seeing the curtains close. He shivered in the cool breeze, stomping his boots, and hoping that Anne would be quick to come down. Sure enough, within minutes the kitchen door opened, and he strode up the path with a smile to greet her, freshly dressed and wrapped in a thick shawl. As he passed her in the doorway he smiled at the two braids that had not yet been taken out, and gave one of them a gentle tug. Anne was adding some wood to the stove while he removed his coat, placing the kettle on before sitting down on the settee.

"Gil, you are twenty-three! Throwing rocks and pulling hair should be beneath you."

He grinned. "I wouldn't want you to lose who I used to be- that's who you married, after all. No, I wanted to see you first thing- I don't like this being away from each other."

Anne feigned a yawn. "Well, I have been sleeping blissfully without _you_ , Gil; no odd thumps through the night, no snoring-"

" _I do not snore_!"

"How would you know if you did?" she asked unanswerably, and Gilbert laughed, taking her hand in his.

"The point is, I thought that since it was our first Christmas as husband and wife, that I should try and get a little time alone with you first."

Anne chuckled. "You're right. We came here to tell everyone- and after spending so much time apart, it seems we are only playing- rather scandalously- at marriage."

Gilbert leant over to tug Anne's hands until she faced him, and he smiled at the look of bright curiosity on her face. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

She smiled at him. "Could you ever have imagined this happening last year?"

He chuckled, his cheeks flushing. He _had_ imagined something similar then, actually. He'd woken in his room at the farm on Christmas morning, fresh from a dream of waking to find the girl now beside him in his bed. He'd gone for a brisk run around the barn then.

Not that Anne in any way needed to know _that_.

"I wouldn't have dared dream this," he said lightly. "Certainly not our manner of getting here."

Anne tucked a long red braid behind her, her eyes regretful. "How is your shoulder now?"

He shrugged, with a smile. "It's a bit stiff in the cold."

Gilbert caught his breath when she leant closer to push the brown curls off his forehead gently. "You did end up with a scar, there," she mused. He raised his hand to touch it self-consciously, and she smiled. "I suppose we all have our scars."

" _You_ have scars?" To this, she suddenly stiffened, something he did not miss- and he watched as she tried to dismiss the uncomfortable moment.

"None worth speaking of."

"But-"

"Please- don't." There was a pause, and her gaze softened. "It doesn't matter. We're here now- and - I've been looking forward to this."

"Having _two_ family Christmases?"

Anne smiled. "They all know now," she said softly. "They aren't necessarily thrilled at the timing, but they know." She tried to speak several times and eventually swallowed. "Diana's reaction made me so aware just how badly it could have gone- and somehow, I don't think things will ever be the same between us again. But Marilla, your parents- they didn't do that to us. They just loved us anyway."

Gilbert's look was affectionate. "You and Di will be fine, sweetheart. It may not be quite the same- but it was going to change when she married anyway. And you know that Marilla and Mother and Dad would still love us even if we _had_ done something bad- but they would have been hopping mad about it. I think it helps that we were relatively innocent. And that we acted quickly for a reason."

Anne began to pull her hair out of the braids with a sigh, her look wistful. "Should we have waited until we came home? Perhaps we should have had the wedding here-"

Gilbert took her hand, admiring the fall of silky red curls over her shoulder. "I don't think Hallett would have waited for us," he said slowly. "He was determined to force our hands. Besides; can you imagine the furore of a speedy family wedding? And at least, this way, we've nearly got three weeks of married experience under our belts."

Anne's eyes twinkled. "Exactly. I already know that you leave piles of books on the floor- and coffee cups in the bowl."

"And I know that it takes you twice as long to wash the hundreds of layers of clothes that you wear, as it takes me to get _mine_ done."

She smiled sweetly. "You occasionally talk in your sleep, Gilbert."

"So do _you_."

Anne blinked in embarrassment. "Oh- I-" she gave a slight smile, then. "I dare say I haven't said anything terribly interesting."

His smile was wicked, then. "I'd never tell you if you _did_."

* * *

Gilbert spent the morning at Green Gables, breakfasting and opening presents in the parlour. He found himself watching the family interact with a smile, still somewhat gob-smacked to find himself admitted to the easy intimacy of the home. He smiled to see his wife back in the heart of her family once more. There was a lightness to her that had been missing- and he almost sighed in relief to see her laugh again at Marilla's dry comments, and the colourful Avonlea gossip that flowed freely from Mrs Lynde. Davy was almost sitting on top of Anne in his eagerness to show her the new paints for his wooden ships, and Dora's blushing thanks were evident at the pretty collar and hair ribbons Anne had given her. Gilbert had been very surprised to receive small tokens from the family as well- handkerchiefs, a pocketknife and a scarf, and a deep green tie from Anne.

He'd had Anne's gift ready for months. He'd been walking by a jewellery store over the summer and seen a brooch- a cluster of white violets with purple centres, with jade leaves surrounding it. He'd pulled it out of his trunk just the week before and chuckled wryly, thinking of the proposal he'd chosen not to make back when the violets were blooming around Patty's Place. And where had this path taken him? To being married to her by Christmas, of course. He was fairly sure his younger self would have thought him mad- and envied him fiercely.

"Well, now, that is very pretty," Mrs Lynde said judiciously, watching Anne thank Gilbert with a smile that made his heart beat wildly. "I do hope you are not being foolish with your money though, Gilbert; you still have quite a time to go until you can finish college. You have the responsibility of a wife now."

"Rachel, do leave Anne and Gilbert to work out their own finances," Marilla said in exasperation. "They were smart enough together to beat the whole island for the Entrance exam years ago, they are well able to handle this."

Rachel sniffed, and proceeded to talk about the exorbitant cost of living in the cities, while Anne turned to Gilbert, her eyes twinkling in mischief. Her voice was low. "I wonder if that will always be our finest accomplishment to the island? Tying for first for the Entrance?"

He grinned, proudly watching her pin the brooch to the lace collar of her ivory blouse, the leaves complementing her rich, green skirts. "Certainly not. I'm the winner of the Medal- and you won the Avery. Is that enough for us to pin our hats on?"

She sat back against the old sofa, watching the twins show their books to the older ladies, and he smiled at the contented look on her face. "We're chasing bigger things now, I suppose." He sat back beside her, her arm brushing against the sleeve of his brown jacket. "Anne, I want to- make sure that we will be alright," he said slowly, and her grey eyes found him in bewilderment.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

He was relieved to see Mrs Lynde follow the twins back to the kitchen, and Marilla folded up her knitting, saying composedly that she supposed she shouldn't leave Rachel to do the dinner on her own. The young couple were left alone, and Anne studied Gilbert's face. He turned to her then, his jaw set stubbornly.

"Anne, you know how hard the next eighteen months will be. We have scholarships to live up to, and I start preparations for the Cooper Prize in March."

"So _soon_?"

Gilbert slid his hand into hers, and shrugged, looking tired. "Professor Daniels wants to start working with me by then. He doesn't want to chance me not being prepared."

Anne bit her lip, suddenly nervous. "He warned me that I couldn't let you get too distracted by our home life," she admitted, not needing to look at him to know the anger that coursed through him at her words. "He wants me to keep you on track. To not let you get distracted- by _us_."

If anything, Gilbert's face grew harder. His voice was gentle, though. "Well, I'm afraid that's none of his business."

Anne sighed. "He wants you to win, Gil. I may not like his methods, but he is looking out for you."

"No, _you_ are the one doing that," he said bluntly. "And I'm looking out for you- that's what marriage is, isn't it? Your work is every bit as important as mine- and _this_ -" here, he gestured between them, "This is more important than anything else."

Anne paused. "Gil, we did this for our education."

"No, we did this for each other too," he said quietly. "Yes, it's important- but we can't do it unless we do it together. We have to be a priority." He seemed to struggle for words then and his fingers stroked the soft skin of her wrist. "My mother said that to Dad a long time ago. When the doctor said he needed to go away for a time."

Anne shifted closer to him, her hand moving to squeeze his. "And they made it through, Gil. We will, too."

"I know." His head came up, and he shrugged. "So we need to be alright."

"I think we are."

Gilbert's eyes flicked downward for just a moment, and he saw the smile on her lovely face. "Merry Christmas, Gil."

He hesitated for a brief moment, before bending his curly head closer. Hazel eyes met grey in question, and she tipped her head up slightly, her lips a mere breath away. "Merry Christmas, Anne," he whispered, and he smiled as her lips shyly met his.


	14. Chapter 14, Resolutions

**Chapter 14**

Mrs Lynde walked in the gate of the Avonlea churchyard, her sharp eyes already assessing the atmosphere. People of all ages milled around talking, trading in gossip and dabbling in the complex politics that were rife within a small town. She studied the clusters of people, those of strong position and weak, the knot of women whispering in the corner of the yard, and men looking over the various horses tethered nearby. When satisfied that all in her kingdom was functioning as anticipated, she strode purposefully to the doors of the church, beadily eying the minister and his wife. It was an important day for the family- an appearing out, of sorts. She had work to do.

Anne, who had grown up more interested in the woods and fields surrounding the church than the people who populated it, stood looking at the hills in the distance wreathed in ribbons of fog even now. There was snow as far as the eye could see- a gift Mother Nature had bestowed the previous day, as families sheltered in cosy homes. The bushes of winterberry holly were a splash of colour against the white of the landscape, and she smiled at the sight of snow-covered apples on an almost bare tree. She was just reaching up to touch it when she heard a familiar step behind her.

"Apples grown in a churchyard? Did you learn nothing from Eve, Anne?"

She laughed and turned to find Gilbert behind her, his eyes twinkling. "I was merely checking to see if the fruit had frozen." Gilbert then reached up to touch it, and she leant in cheekily to whisper- "And _that's_ how Eve made sure Adam was in the mess with her as well."

To this, he could only grin, very much liking the allusion. "And is ' _Eve_ ' ready to confront the Avonlea people with her Adam now?"

Anne's shoulders dropped, and she adjusted her hat with a small sigh. "Yes. Once more into the breach, I suppose."

Gilbert's eyes showed some concern as he adjusted her scarf. "Anne, I was teasing. I'm hoping it won't be so bad- not with our parents with us."

Anne tucked her hand into his arm with a smile. "I do like the way you say that, you know," she said quietly. "Marilla never wanted me to call her anything but her name- however, I do see her as a mother."

Gilbert chuckled. "Anne, the look on her face while we were telling them everything could have told you that much. I thought she was going to skin me alive- that had all of a mother's ferocity."

"And yet Marilla very much likes you- and I'm quite sure that she likes you for me. You'll see, Gil."

The congregation was preparing to enter the building, and curious glances were thrown towards the pair as they approached together. Gilbert stopped to greet Fred and Diana, and he noticed that Diana gave an oddly defiant look at her mother as she greeted Anne on her way past. Mrs Lynde was standing by the minister and his wife on the steps, waiting for them as Marilla ushered the twins into the building.

"Gilbert, don't dawdle. Take your wife to sit with your parents now," Mrs Lynde said calmly.

Gilbert turned to Anne, not bothering to suppress the mischief in his eyes. "Well, then. Are you ready, Mrs Blythe?" he murmured. "It appears Avonlea is."

Anne had been feeling rather nervous, and now almost laughed. "This is as good as a public announcement. Are you sure that we shouldn't just run in screaming that we were unexpectedly married three weeks ago?"

He grinned. "Well, that would save us sending out wedding announcements." For just a moment he saw the real anxiety on her face and lifted her gloved hand to press a kiss to it, making her eyes soften. "I'm not ashamed, Anne. I never will be."

She smiled at him and they turned to greet the minister.

"Now then, hurry along," the older man said cheerfully. "I've got a sermon about the Parable of the Unwise Virgins that you just don't want to miss."

He bustled through the doors, leaving a wide-eyed Anne at the steps. Her husband was working to control his laughter, and she couldn't help but scowl at him, her cheeks cherry-red. Together they stepped in through the doors of the sanctuary, and followed the minister toward the front, hearing the rustling of movement, and the whispers that now began in earnest. Gilbert saw Davy's grimace and Marilla's resigned look as they walked past the Cuthbert pew, and he led Anne to his family with a flush burning into his cheeks. He took his place beside her, slipping his hand into hers tightly as the organ began to play.

* * *

Once the Unwise Virgins had been given their rhetorical due in the service, the Blythes and the inhabitants of Green Gables were inundated with people eager to ask about Anne and Gilbert's engagement. Few were surprised by the news- until they were informed that the wedding had already taken place and that they had come home to announce their elopement to their families.

Responses were varied. Mrs Andrews stood some way off surrounded by Madames Pye, Sloane and Bell, shaking her head at the apparent scandal. The younger women cast longing looks at Gilbert, turning to giggle together about the studious _Miss Anne_ , now a married woman- and to the finest dish of all! Marilla was even asked if Anne's romantic nature had landed the two of them in a precarious situation: she would only say fairly that the young couple were as impulsive as each other- and that was a trait of the young, after all. The minister immediately offered spontaneous felicitations (at Mrs Lynde's request) and was encouraged by the said lady to pray a blessing over their marriage. Anne couldn't help but squirm under the hand that was surely crushing the flowers on her winter hat- and even Gilbert winced under his heavy-handed benediction. The older fellow had been a hammer-throwing champion in his youth, after all.

Anne's smile felt as if had been pasted on after some minutes had passed when she heard the voice she had been dreading- just as Gilbert had briefly turned away to speak to his aunt.

"So? Is it true?" Josie Pye said with evident disbelief. "The great Anne Shirley who was too smart to settle down got Gilbert into a little trouble?"

Anne paled. So far people had not outright asked them anything improper- of course, it had to be Josie. "It's nice to see you too, Josie."

The girl tossed her flaxen curls, her pink velvet cape swishing around her. "You might as well own it, Anne- no one here is fooled by the happy-family act the Blythes are putting on."

Anne's look was calm, refusing to allow Josie to know that she was upset. "It was sudden, certainly," she acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean there was a scandal involved."

Josie snorted unbecomingly. "Oh, _please_. A clandestine wedding that couldn't even wait until you were back here-"

Anne gritted her teeth. "A small wedding performed by a minister where we live in Kingsport, Josie. _Not_ clandestine."

"If no one from here knew, that makes it suspicious."

"Then ask Moody for his opinion," Gilbert interrupted, suddenly reappearing. "He was there."

Josie snapped her head back at Gilbert's presence- and narrowed her eyes at the possessive hand he placed on Anne's back. "What? Why on earth would you have _Moody_ there?"

"That's no way to speak of my best man, Josie," Gilbert said, frowning. "He did a fine job."

"Well, what do you expect us all to believe? That the two of you randomly decided to have a wedding when you weren't even courting?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Well, as you weren't in Kingsport with us, let's just say we disagree. And a quiet wedding instead of the fuss that Avonlea expected? It sounded good to us." Gilbert turned back to Anne then, clasping her gloved hand to his chest, and Anne almost choked at the barely perceptible twinkle in his hazel eyes. "Not that it's anyone's business, but we decided not to wait any longer, Josie. We didn't want to do that- and I think it was the smartest decision we've ever made."

Josie's look was disgusted. "I'd expect Anne to be this irresponsible, after all, she never had a real upbringing to speak of- but how could _you_ be so foolish, Gilbert? You don't have a house, a job-"

Anne stiffened, her eyes on her husband. No one else would notice, however she saw the tightening around Gilbert's mouth, the sign that Josie's shot had hit home. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm tightly, turning her head so that her cheek touched his shoulder. Gilbert looked down at her then, his look softening. He turned back to Josie coolly. "No. I don't have either of those things. But I have Anne. Frankly, that's all I need."

Anne observed the look of utter bewilderment on her pinched features. "I think what you are trying to say is _congratulations_ , Josie," she said mildly.

The couple were not surprised to see that Josie stalked off, seething. Gilbert turned to Anne and shrugged cheerfully. "Oh dear- she left. I was going to kiss you next if we couldn't get rid of her."

Anne pulled away in indignation, giving him a mild slap on the arm. "Gilbert Blythe! You would use physical affection to punish someone else?"

He grinned, taking her hand. "Can you think of anything that would shoo her away faster?"

Anne scowled. " _Oh_! I feel rather used."

"You shouldn't," he said frankly, chuckling. "Trust me, I wouldn't do it at all if I didn't want to. I'm not above using her as an excuse."

Anne's breath caught at his words, and she flushed as she met his smug look with her chin held high. "I don't know that I like this side of you, Mr Blythe."

She had expected him to refute his words entirely- and yet there was a cockiness to him now that the worst was over, that made her heart thud strangely. He grinned and moved his lips close to her ear, his warm breath making her shiver. "Anne, I think you like this side of me just fine. You just have to figure out how to manage me."

There was a brief, electric moment as their eyes met, and his gloved hand slipped into hers as he opened his mouth.

However, whatever he had been about to say, Gilbert turned in surprise at a disturbance in the crowd behind him. Anne instinctively moved closer to her husband as Charlie Sloane's enraged face appeared over the top of a cluster of little girls. Anne gulped- there was no mistaking the Sloane temper that seemed ready to erupt- and there was no telling the amount of damage that his tongue could do.

Charlie eyeballed them ferociously across the busy courtyard, growling at all in his way, and trying to sidestep the sizable bulk of Mrs Lynde and her cronies. Davy ran in front of him and was roundly abused, and finally, the three Cotton sisters jumped aside in fright, as Charlie bodily moved a young child from his path. Anne winced at the gruesome spots still covering his face, his normally tidy hair flopping to one side in his aggravation. Poor Dora who had been sidling up to Anne stifled a small squeak and ran back to Marilla for safety.

"Blythe, I have a bone to pick with you!" he snapped. Gilbert's breath caught, and he felt Anne grip his hand tightly.

"Charles, good to see that you're home."

"Don't you _Charles_ me," he said indignantly. "Why would you ask Moody to be your best man instead of _me_?"

The group of girls behind them immediately pricked up their ears, and Gilbert blinked confusedly. He caught Anne's eye, and lifted his hand, placating him. "Now then, old fellow, you were rather laid up for the past month-"

Charlie scowled. "I should think you would need your best friend by your side when you _get married_. You couldn't have waited a few more weeks to have me there?"

A bewildered Anne cleared her throat, trying to be diplomatic. "Really, Charlie; we didn't want to do anything to slow your recovery- and we did rather impulsively decide to have the wedding-"

"It was _completely_ impulsive, Anne," Charlie snapped, and through her indignation, Anne struggled to remain sober- he might as well have addressed her as _young lady_. "Gil, I don't understand why you would choose to do such a thing without consulting me for advice. I'm sure the Redmond faculty will think this most irregular. Have you considered what Professor Hallett will think? This could cause damaging gossip- even if it's clear that no one from Avonlea would ever behave that way." Now that his outburst was over, he sighed, his look solemn. "Still, despite the fact that you rushed into this without appropriate preparation, I will stand by you. And Anne, you have my word that there are no hard feelings now."

Here, Anne coughed in shock. "Charlie?"

The Sloane expression was on his spotted face, and he folded his arms condescendingly. "Clearly, you were setting your cap at Gilbert years ago- although perhaps you should have been more forthright with your intentions, to avoid misleading me." Gilbert's hand closed over Anne's wrist, seeing the enraged spark in her suddenly green eyes at his words. "I assume this is the reason you refused me a year ago; although had you just said that you favoured him, Anne, perhaps it would not have descended into a petty argument," he stated. "I should certainly have stepped aside for my _best friend._ "

Gilbert was almost aching from trying not to laugh, and luckily, Anne was rendered too speechless to respond. "That's- awfully good of you, Charles."

Charlie was on his way to being appeased and sighed lugubriously. "Well, now I know why you moved out of your boarding house. It's a shame, Gil- I imagine that I could have been a steadying influence if you still lived there. I suppose you found an apartment somewhere in Kingsport?"

Anne had recovered her poise by now and sent a naughty look to her husband. "Charlie, perhaps you don't know that Mrs Whitley owns a cottage at the rear of your new boardinghouse? Gilbert and I are living there now. You won't lose him after all."

There were a few more minutes of conversation, during which Charlie lectured them for not asking for a dossier on the young Reverend Blake before he married them. To Anne and Gilbert's bewilderment, Charlie appeared to be more concerned with missing the event than he was with the circumstances surrounding their marriage. As Charlie's pontificating began to wind down, people began to disperse from the churchyard toward their homes and dinners, and Anne and Gilbert farewelled the spotted fellow, both startled to realise that Charlie had no intention of keeping his distance from them. Blood, they always said, was thicker than water- and evidently, the ties of Avonlea were equally strong. Whether or not his presence would help or hinder those of malicious intent was yet to be seen.

Another strange encounter happened when Diana and Fred said goodbye. Diana asked rather awkwardly if they could come to see Anne and Gilbert for supper later in the week, instead of the couple coming to Orchard Slope. Gilbert had not hesitated in inviting the couple to come to his parent's home- however, Anne's grey eyes flickered across the courtyard, until they encountered the icy look on Mrs Barry's face in the distance. She paled and turned back to her friend.

"Your mother doesn't want us to come, does she?"

Diana cringed. "I'm so sorry, darling. I tried to explain, but she wouldn't listen. Of course, I couldn't tell her what you told me- and I don't think it would help in any case. Anne- it's my fault- if I hadn't reacted so poorly-"

Anne drew in a shaking breath, and was pulled by her friend into a strangling hug, trying to ignore the black eyes glaring right at her across the yard. "It's alright, Di. It will be alright."

Diana pulled away and shook her head, her voice broken. "It's _not_ , Anne. But- in time, she'll see. You'll show everyone, I know you will."

Gilbert met Fred's eyes in regret. "Look, you don't have to come this visit- it might be easier for you both if you don't."

At this, Diana's black head came up, and she tossed her black curls defiantly. "No, I don't think so. We are celebrating your wedding this week, Anne Blythe- and my mother can just make the best of it."

* * *

The following week after Christmas went by swiftly. On the twenty-eighth of December, Green Gables hosted a congratulatory party for Anne and Gilbert, capably assisted by Amelia Blythe and Mrs Harrison. The house was filled with people young and old, although conspicuously absent were the Pyes. There were whispers of course, about the real reason that the happy event had taken place, although none dared to say so openly- not when Marilla and the Blythes were present at least. Rachel Lynde was another person no one felt very safe offending- not when she knew every sordid scandal that had ever taken place on the north shore and was none too precious about _where_ she mentioned said information.

Avonlea admitted that Gilbert had always wanted the contrary redhead- and Anne would be foolish to not return his affection, not when the Blythe name carried such weight. Anne herself must have suggested the elopement- she'd claimed him, they supposed- and hadn't she always been an incurable romantic? Isn't that why she had written Averil's Atonement? No other girl would have dreamed of doing such a thing, however evidently, it had paid off. Rumour had it that Anne and Gilbert were gifted with a lifetime supply of Rollings Reliable Baking Powder.

A blushing Anne received her guests, and all noticed the look of sunlight on Gilbert's face as he beheld his bride- something the women at least found adorable. It was a more pleasant evening than Anne had expected- perhaps Amelia and Marilla had been right about the need for public support from the families. Diana and Fred mingled amongst their guests, bubbling with joy over the news- something that made Anne want to cry, knowing how hard Diana was trying for her sake. Charlie was telling all in his hearing that he'd known all along about the couple. Moody stood by stoutly, questioned by all on his role in the small wedding, and declaring that it was all the better for being without all of the usual fuss. Of course, he _did_ mention this in front of his cousin Cynthia who was getting married in a whirl of fuss in four month's time, and she subsequently wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the holiday.

The Irving's would not be back in Avonlea until the summertime. Anne had received a warm letter on Christmas Eve from Miss Lavender, talking about their home in Toronto, how darling Paul had grown, and how much she missed her dear cottage. Anne shivered slightly. What would Miss Lavender say? Somehow, she doubted that she would be surprised. There was a prescience to her friend that had occasionally unsettled Anne- and she had been exceedingly curious when she met Gilbert over three years ago. She had liked him greatly then, and insisted that Anne bring him back whenever he was in town on the weekends- and Charlotta the Fourth was often reduced to stuttering whenever the tall, broad-shouldered fellow had stepped inside the little house. Anne had written back to Miss Lavender on Christmas day, acquainting her with the new circumstances of her life- all the time wondering what she would think.

Mr Harrison had succeeded in helping Davy build a bonfire for the young folk, and a good night was had by all, inside and out. Gilbert made a short speech after Mrs Lynde demanded it, with Anne's hand securely in his. Anne couldn't help but smile at the way he charmed his audience, old and young alike- he admitted with a smile that although their decision had been swift, that he was more than pleased to come back to their home as husband and wife now, to a series of _ahhhs_ from the younger crowd. He was careful to give no hint to the events that had taken place a month earlier- only saying that he was blessed to stand by his new wife, and proud for them to forge a future together, one that allowed them both to chase their dreams.

* * *

The days in Avonlea were swift to pass, and the families began to get used to Anne and Gilbert being in either one house or the other. Davy did his best to monopolize Gilbert's time while he was at Green Gables, saying stoutly that Anne's impromptu wedding at least brought another fellow into the household. Gilbert eventually took Davy for a walk through the Haunted Wood, finally having the conversation he had been dreading for some days. John Blythe had laughed immoderately at the task Gilbert had before him, before giving him some hints on just what he should tell the boy.

Davy came out of it fairly well- Gilbert, on the other hand, felt as if the hundred or so questions thrown at him were driving him to a nervous breakdown. When at last they entered Green Gables, Davy hustled off to his chores, leaving Anne struggling to remain sober in order to soothe and tend to her deeply embarrassed husband.

Anne, meanwhile spent time with the older ladies and Dora, catching up on their lives and entertaining them with some of her household concerns. She was given a good deal of unnecessary advice from Mrs Lynde, but also some helpful hints that she would one day be grateful for. She was furnished with recipes and more books on housekeeping and was informed that she would be taking an extra trunk home filled with jams and pickles and contrivances of both households.

* * *

Three days before they were due to leave for Kingsport, Gilbert and Anne were at the Blythe farm once again. Diana and Fred had come for dinner that day- now that everything was out in the open, the couple were able to talk more freely about their home and life in the city- and the way that the girls had banded together to create the hurried wedding. When Gilbert and Fred had gone outside to check on the Wright's new horse, Anne found herself talking even more freely with Diana than she had with the girls.

Diana stared at her, a small smile curling on her lips. "Anne Shirley, would you care to repeat that for me?"

Anne groaned, her head falling into her hands. " _Blythe_ , Di."

" _You actually asked him to kiss you?_ "

Anne's red head rose then, her voice high in embarrassment. "A little _louder_ , Di, I don't think that Gilbert's parents heard you!"

Diana rocked back on the sofa in fits of laughter. "Oh, honey, I'm sure they know you have kissed their son once or twice."

Anne huffed, her arms crossed defiantly. "I didn't want us to embarrass ourselves in front of everyone at the wedding."

Diana, who had yet to be married worried her lip. "Oh dear- is there a wrong way to kiss someone at your wedding?"

Anne's brow came up with a smirk worthy of Gilbert himself. "Not when two people have as much experience as you and _Mr Wright_ do, Diana."

Her friend rolled her dark eyes. "Well, dare I ask how it was?"

The redhead hesitated, before- "It was rather nice, actually," Anne admitted unexpectedly.

Diana chuckled and pulled Mrs Blythe's famous chocolate cake from the tea table again. "Good girl! And do the two of you make a habit of kissing now?"

Anne seemed to want to shrink into the corner of the sofa, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. "Well- we said we wouldn't, at first," she said softly. "It's too fast. But it worries me that it's too easy to forget what we said. I didn't know it would be so easy to- to be together like that."

Diana, surprisingly, gave a short laugh. "Yes. It's the one thing no one tells you."

Somewhat reassured by the privacy they had at the moment, Anne sighed. "It's confusing and embarrassing- and I have a feeling that we've only just begun to figure out who we are together- and it frightens me that I don't know exactly what that is." She closed her grey eyes, her shoulders drooping. "Sometimes I don't know how we're ever going to do this."

Diana lifted the hand that wore Gilbert's ring and smiled. "By doing what you and Gilbert do best, I suppose. Joining forces and annihilating the competition."

"Di, there is no competition."

"Well, it's not so complicated, either," Di said gently. "Do you trust him?"

Anne frowned. "Of course."

"Look, you are the smartest people I know-"

"Well, clearly not _all_ the time-" Anne said dryly, making Diana laugh.

"Alright, not always. But you both already care so much- and it's not so very hard to fall in love. Especially not when he is the one man alive who can keep up with you."

"Keep up with me, _pass_ me," Anne commented with a slight smile, before becoming serious. "I meant it, you know. I did this to make sure that Gilbert has the chance he is fighting for. He deserves it."

Diana bent her dark head close, her look warm. "And what about the rest of the reason?"

Anne was silent for almost a full minute while Diana waited. "Because I didn't want to lose him."

Diana smiled. "Well, you can't, now. Anne, will you please do me a favour?"

"Anything, Di."

"Tell me what happens," Diana now pleaded. "Tell me when it's hard, and when it's good. I want to be a part of your life- and I want you to stay a part of mine. We swore an oath, remember."

Anne's grey eyes widened, then. "But Diana- it's _awfully_ wicked to swear!"

To this, her bosom friend could only throw her arms around her with a laugh. "I'd only ever do it for you, Anne."

* * *

That night, after Fred had taken his fiance home to Orchard Slope, Anne and Gilbert sat in the comfortable sitting room of the Blythe house. They had brought their schoolwork home for Christmas, and the older Blythes were content to let the young couple study, observing with pleasure the comfort between them.

Several times Gilbert had looked up from his book to see Anne dreaming before the fire, her feet tucked up beneath her, a forgotten book on her lap. He traced the lines of her pretty figure in the flickering light. She was beautiful, he thought dreamily. Smooth, pale skin, the smattering of freckles that she hated- and the long, red hair twisted high on her head, little locks curling around her neck so tantalizingly.

He closed up his book, at times feeling a certain despondency at their situation. Loving her, wanting her so desperately- and not yet being able to show her. She wasn't ready; Anne had said so herself. And yet she was here, in his parent's home with him. His eyes drifted to the heavy skies through the window, and he hid a small sigh. What wouldn't he give to have her stranded with him indefinitely? Then, he shook his head, feeling idiotic. Had he forgotten that she was married to him now?

Anne looked across at him then, smiling at the faint grin on Gilbert's face. "What is it?" she asked quietly.

"It's just nice to be here with you without everyone else. I miss you," he admitted.

Anne gave him an indulgent look, nevertheless moving to sit beside him. "We've hardly had a chance to miss each other, Gil. I'm certain we've never been together so much in our lives."

There was silence for a time, before Anne turned to Gilbert thoughtfully. "It's been a bit of a respite here, hasn't it? Do you feel rested?"

Gilbert gave a dry laugh. "Anne, if respite means what we've just lived through, then send me back to Kingsport."

She shook her head. "No, back in Kingsport, the pressure is greater, I think. And we need to go back to work soon enough."

Gilbert took her hand in his, choosing his words carefully. "Anne, I know that things need to get back to normal with us, too."

She looked up at him and felt her heart clench at the sudden vulnerability on his face. "What do you mean?"

He couldn't quite meet her eyes then. "I- I take it seriously that you want us to take our time with everything. I know that- when we're back home- I-" he seemed to freeze then, and he tipped his head on one side as his brows lowered, studying the fingers entwined with his own. "I suppose I just want to say thank you. Even with everything else- it's been the best Christmas of my life."

To this, Anne raised one eyebrow. "Really, Gil? With a forced marriage and subsequent confession to our families, and this was the best?"

His eyebrow rose, and he chuckled. "Well, it has been, alright? I'm allowed to have my opinion, aren't I?"

"Well, then we can look forward to next year at least," she commented, contentedly. "We'll be six months off graduating, and won't have any news to shock everyone with- and that _will_ be an improvement."

Deliciously sleepy in the warm firelight, she hardly noticed when Gilbert turned again so that she could lean against him, her thoughts drifting lazily. "Your mother spoke with me about some recipes that she wants to give me."

Gilbert chuckled. "Ah- Blythe family recipes, Anne. I hope you realise what an honour this is."

"One I am entirely sensible of," she replied dryly. "I wanted to make sure that we were eating enough of the things you like- it's the least I can do."

" _Here_ , now." Gilbert suddenly dislodged Anne from his shoulder, turning to her with a stern look. "You can't keep doing this, Anne. I don't want to find us on that wedding anniversary we keep talking about, surrounded by children and grandchildren, and still hearing you talk like that."

Anne rolled her eyes at him. "Gil-"

"No, I'm serious, Anne. Enough with the blame- there's plenty to go around." Her look was sceptical, and he sighed in exasperation. "Yes, you started it. I won't argue with you there. But if you had been found sitting by my side in that tent and I'd- oh, I don't know, _actually left my shirt on,_ there wouldn't have been such a fuss, you know that. _We_ did this. We chose to go through with it. You didn't force me into a marriage, we chose it."

Anne bit her lip, her eyes troubled. "I- it's just- the approach of the new year bothers me," she said slowly. "We close the old year out tomorrow night- and we're supposed to reflect on the year that has passed. And I still remember what you said to me _last_ New Year."

Gilbert gave her a startled look. "What did I say?"

Anne tucked a red curl behind her ear self-consciously. "You said that you wanted to put everything you had into your studies. You wanted to explore new territory- and push yourself further than you ever had. And instead, you wound up married to me, living in the Mushroom, for heavens sake, and fighting to escape the whirlpool of scandal."

"I remember that."

"And don't you wish you were beginning this year differently?"

"Anne, you don't want to talk about all this tomorrow night?"

"No. Tomorrow night we will be surrounded by all of Avonlea," Anne said stubbornly.

"Sweetheart, you have to hear me," Gilbert said with a sigh. "I don't regret the outcome, I keep telling you that. And I- I'm afraid I wasn't being completely transparent with you back then. The new territory I was talking about- it was with _you_."

There was a hurt look that flashed through her grey eyes, and she went to pull away from him. "You can't just make up things like that to try and make me feel better."

Gilbert was quick to grab her, and he bent closer to allow her to look in his eyes. "I'm not making anything up. Is it so hard to believe that I liked you back then, but I wasn't at all sure how you felt about me?"

Anne swallowed, nervously smoothing her blouse over her chest. "Oh- I- I-"

"Now, there's my articulate girl," he said, amused, and sighed. "Look, Anne, I just didn't know how to say anything to you last Christmas. And it's a good thing I didn't. You told me a month ago that you weren't ready for all this. You- you didn't think about me like that."

She cleared her throat nervously, her eyes falling. "I'd never thought about anyone like that, Gil. I'm sorry-"

"Hey," he said tenderly. "It's alright. I know where we are at, now. And we're so lucky. We've got a way to get through this now, and we've got the time to get used to us. This is going to be a good year, Anne."

She gave him a derisive look, and he placed a gentle hand on her cheek for a moment. "It will be, sweetheart. We're going to be the best students that we can be, we've easily got the determination between us to do it. You're going to come down off your high horse and admit that you need me to help you with the housework-" here, Anne scowled at him, and he only shrugged. "You're going to teach me to cook too- I'm not putting up with you becoming exhausted trying to do everything, while I sit back like some pampered prince. I'm not helpless. If I can use a spectroscope, I can cook a meal for us."

Anne grimaced. "I did plan on teaching you, Gilbert. I just- I thought it would be easier if I did it, to begin with."

He seemed to be uncomfortable with this. "Well, I don't plan on feeling useless for the next year and a half- so you'd better let me do my share now."

Anne chuckled. "You may regret saying that."

There was a tap at the door then, and Gilbert's mother came inside, closely followed by his father. Anne couldn't help but flush, wondering why Amelia had looked hesitant. What state was she expecting to find them in?

"Gilbert, your father collected a parcel while Diana and Fred were here- you and Anne may want to open it now."

Anne sat up taller, her big eyes on Gilbert. He grinned sheepishly and turned to her. "I'd hoped to buy you a proper engagement ring down the track- you know, when we aren't struggling college students."

Anne's cheeks were flushed, trying to ignore Gilbert's parent's identical smiles. "Gil, you don't need to-"

"Oh, but he didn't, love," Amelia said excitedly, pulling the package from Gilbert's hands to open it for him. Anne's eyes were enormous as she drew out two small boxes. "These belonged to John's mother and father- they've been sitting in the attic for years." When Gilbert cleared his throat, his mother's cheeks turned suddenly pink. "Oh- I'll just let Gilbert do this, shall I?"

Gilbert met Anne's grey eyes then, his own twinkling in amusement, and a sentiment somehow much warmer. "I didn't even know these existed, Anne- but when mother showed me them, I- I wondered if you would let me give you this as our ring."

Anne's hands were shaking with nerves as she accepted the box from Gilbert, seeing how much this meant to him, despite his light tone. She opened the box to see five small pearls set on a golden band. The moment seemed to carry the weight of expectation of an entire family- only now did she see that she was not just gaining Gilbert, but things she had never before had: a mother and father, aunts, uncles, and even cousins- recipes and traditions and the name of a family. However, as she caught her breath, it was the man before her who held her attention. Without any explanation, she handed the box back to Gilbert, before slipping off her small wedding band.

He seemed frozen until she held out her hand, now very aware of his mother growing teary, and John's gentle chuckle. Gilbert's smile was huge then, and he slipped the pearl ring over her fourth finger, following it with the wedding band he had placed on it only a month ago.

"It's like it was made for you," he said proudly, and she couldn't help but smile at his obvious happiness.

Anne shook her head in wonder. "It's so lovely, Gil."

Gilbert cleared his throat again. "I was told that pearls were meant for tears," he admitted.

Anne chuckled. "You've never had happy tears, Gil? I have." There were some in her eyes now, and Gilbert pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her red head.

Amelia Blythe was wiping away some of her own when she spoke thickly. "Don't forget the other one, dear."

Gilbert opened the second box, his cheeks hot, almost wishing his parents weren't watching them. "This one belonged to my grandfather. He wore a wedding ring as well. I know it's not customary-"

"That is, it is for _us_." Anne turned to see John Blythe holding up his own left hand, and she smiled to see a ring there as well. "It's a Blythe custom."

She chuckled, blushing under the scrutiny. "Well, given the number of girls who shamelessly flirt with the class president, I think it a good idea," she teased, laughing when Gilbert turned to his parents in horror.

"She's exaggerating, mother, they really don't."

It was to Anne that the Blythes looked then, and she mouthed ' _They do so_ ', making them laugh.

John rose then, taking his wife's hand. "Well, we'll leave you two to finish. Gil, be sure to take Anne home before the snow starts- we don't want Marilla worrying."

Amelia hesitated, looking at the pair longingly. "Can we see you put it on him, dear?"

Anne chuckled at Gilbert's long-suffering look, as she took the other ring from the box and placed it on his finger carefully. Amelia seemed to be waiting for something more, and finally, Anne realised what it was.

"Oh. I think she expects you to kiss me," she muttered, while Gilbert's father worked on drawing her from the room.

Mrs Blythe didn't bother to hide that she was shamelessly eavesdropping, and she shrugged innocently. "Well, we _did_ miss the wedding..."

Gilbert frowned crossly. "Ma, that's terrible, using guilt like that!"

"And yet I'm still waiting, dear."

Anne began to wish she could sink through the floor, when Gilbert took her left hand in his, admiring the ring on her slender fingers. "Well, I think I've proved that I won't complain about doing it," he murmured, making Anne chuckle, her cheeks fiery. He bent closer and gave her a sweet kiss that made his mother burst into tears again, and over her excited chatter, he spoke softly. "Happy New Year, sweetheart."

Anne smiled, tightening her fingers around his. "Happy New Year, Gil."


	15. Chapter 15, An Everpresent Shadow

**Chapter 15**

The Prince Edward Island Redmond contingent had booked the tickets for their return on the same day, much to Anne's pleasure. It was now the second of January, and the breeze at the Charlottetown station was icy. It had been some time since the six of them had been able to travel together, and the reunion of the Avonlea students with Priscilla and Stella was merry- at least, as merry as Charlie's grumbling manner would allow. He had never travelled graciously.

After their luggage had been transferred to the ship, Gilbert grinned as Prissy and Stella disappeared with Anne into the great cabin of the steamboat as it began to move, each talking excitedly. He stood outside for a time watching the island leave the horizon, only partially regretting that she wasn't standing with him as she usually did. She'd been quiet when he and his parents had collected her from Green Gables that morning, no doubt worried about their return- she needed the girls. He also knew that the girls would want to know how their Christmas had gone- in detail, of course. Moody had taken Charlie to the medical cabin as usual for some ginger tea, and for a few minutes at least, he had peace.

The skies and waters were grey and cool, and after a short time, Gilbert turned from the rail to go inside. He readily found Anne's red head amongst the other passengers and walked toward the girls only to meet Moody coming up from one of the lower decks.

"Is Charlie alright?" Gilbert asked.

Moody shrugged, a slight grin on his long face. "He's a bit- er, _delicate_. Apparently, the captain isn't taking his needs into consideration."

"Dreadful of him." Gilbert sat down across from his wife, smiling at the cheeky smile she now gave him. "And just what have _you_ been doing, Anne?"

"Who says that I did anything?"

He looked amused, laying his coat on the seat next to him. "That smile does."

She chuckled. "Alright then, I was just telling the girls about Davy."

He groaned, and his face was hidden in his hands, making the girls laugh at his discomfort. "I'm sure you did the talk very well, Gilbert."

It was the work of moments to explain the situation to Moody, who immediately turned pale. "Better you educating him than me, Blythe. Although I'm sure the ladies don't want to be discussing this."

Priscilla chuckled and sat back against the wooden bench. "Well, it isn't like we don't hear enough of it at college."

Both Gilbert and Moody turned to her in shock, and Stella shrugged in the silence. "Being a co-ed has a price- and some of the men at Redmond are not as gentlemanly as the two of you were both raised to be."

Gilbert's alarmed look flickered to Anne, and it was a moment before she met his eyes. "There is a reason that we were fastidious about who visited us at Patty's Place," she said carefully.

"Still _are_ ," Prissy commented, amused. "Aunt Jimsie is very good at weeding out the less stellar of the bunch."

"I- I wouldn't have thought they would talk like that around you."

Anne smiled slightly. "Gil, most of them are decent enough fellows. But there are always a few who are less discreet."

Gilbert let out a long breath. "You'll need to let me know who, Anne. I want our home to be safe, too."

"I'm still not used to hearing that from the two of you," Stella said lazily. "And I think the first thing you need to do is invite all of us over. We have yet to see this Mushroom of yours."

Anne chuckled. "Well- we have talked about hosting a housewarming, of sorts."

"Yes, you can bring us kindling as a gift," Gilbert added, grinning. "I keep accidentally letting us run out."

Charlie was on deck by the time the boat docked, and there was a rush to make it to the city train on time. To their dismay, when the six of them boarded, the train was already mostly full. Gilbert was fortunate to find four seats together, and as he placed Anne's bag on one, Stella claimed the other, looking for Priscilla, who was coming behind with Anne. It was, however, Charlie who came into view. In his usual manner he stepped over Stella to the seat she was saving, insisting that he needed to be in the middle to avoid motion sickness. Before Stella could splutter in her indignation, Priscilla walked past her with her bag, breathing heavily. "It's full, Stella- every seat is taken. You stay here- one of us needs to catch up on the rest of the Avonlea gossip at least. I'll move further down the train."

Gilbert courteously took Anne's coat and hat from her and saw her seated, scowling at Charlie for suggesting that Stella should move _his_ hat so that it wouldn't fall. Gilbert briefly shuddered, thinking of the fellow being on their doorstep from now on, and sat down after turning to check that Priscilla was alright. "She's with Moody," he told the others, and Stella relaxed, knowing their friend would be safe.

A light rain began to fall as the train sped across the Nova Scotian landscape, now shrouded in darkness. Anne dreamily watched the movement of the hanging lamps in the panes of the window, seeing small towns dotted here and there along the journey while Stella and Gilbert argued somewhat ironically about the rules of the Debating Club. She was content to think long thoughts as the light rain pattered against her window, wondering how the little Mushroom had fared in their absence. Mrs Whitley had promised to keep an eye on Rusty for Anne, adding stiffly that a well-behaved animal was no trouble to care for. Anne had some faint doubts about her pet's behaviour, however, she had thanked their landlord profusely. Surprisingly, the older woman had laughed outright at Anne's explanation of Rusty's origins- and agreed that a cat would make his home where he liked.

Charlie nodded off to sleep soon into the journey, to everyone's relief. Stella soon turned to her book, and Gilbert sat with Euclid on his lap, idly jotting down notes in pencil in the margins. Anne settled back, the cool of the glass beside her making her shiver slightly on the bleak winter evening. Gilbert's arm had fallen down beside her own to rest on her gloves on the seat, his book propped up on his knee, and her eyes traced down to where his grandfather's ring caught the light. Without moving, and her eyes flickering up to make sure that everyone was occupied, she raised her left hand to look at the creamy pearl ring on her fingers, her eyes soft.

The ring wasn't what she had pictured when she was younger- and yet it was perfect for her, as pale as her own skin and gleaming in the lamplight. Gilbert had told her a little of his grandparents- the ones who left Charlottetown behind them to build the Blythe farm when it had all been open countryside. There was a tiny bubble of happiness in her as she studied the ring. It wasn't new- no, it was far more precious than that, it was something that had come from the heart of his family. She bit her lip, not wanting anyone to see the girlish smile on her face. How would her parents feel if they could see her now? She was no longer a Shirley, but a _Blythe_. Anne carefully looked up at Gilbert's profile, a faint smile peeking through. Her mother and father certainly wouldn't have been able to fault Gilbert on his looks. And his gentleness with her since this all began had been wonderful. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden snore and grunt from Charlie that made her wince. Imagine if she had found herself in a similar situation with someone like him! No, if this was the way she married, it certainly could be with no one but Gilbert.

Still, a part her wondered at her being where she was. There had been little time for introspection over the past five weeks- with anxiety over sharing their news, and the need to maintain a perfectly unified front, Anne had found herself simply too busy to take stock of their almost month-old marriage- and they had rarely been alone in Avonlea. The Blythe and the Green Gables households had claimed their time with the young pair most avidly- especially considering they would not see the children again for another six months.

The sound of the train clicking over the tracks was oddly soothing, and she gave an unconscious sigh as she settled into the seat, with Gilbert's sturdy warmth beside her. It was just six months now until the end of their junior year of college; after that, there would only be another year until they were done. She stifled a yawn behind one slender hand now. The rain was coming down steadily, and she began to relax, her grey eyes blinking sleepily. Her littlest finger brushed his then on the seat, and in that liminal space between the waking world and sleep, her fingers curled around his own. Her eyes at last closing, she didn't see the furtive glance her husband gave her, or the satisfied smile on his lips as he turned his palm to cradle her hand in his own.

* * *

It was almost nine in the evening when the train pulled into the Kingsport station, and it took several minutes for the quicker passengers to clear from the aisle. As the sound of the whistle went, Gilbert turned to see Anne's big, grey eyes blinking up at him. He'd needed to wake her when the faint lights of the city began to show on the horizon, chuckling at the way she groaned and stretched in the limited space. She'd been so peaceful resting against his shoulder, but the train was now beginning to empty, and Gilbert had already been hit by several people walking past him with large suitcases.

"And you wonder why I never want you to sit on the aisle," he grumbled, picking up his hat from the floor after it had been knocked off for the second time.

Anne was pulling on her overcoat now, and yawned. "You might wish to have the window seat sometime, Gilbert."

Stella was just standing up and turned around with a sigh. "I could only wish someone _else_ was that considerate." She turned to the fellow beside her and scowled. " _Mr Sloane!_ We're in Kingsport now!"

Anne couldn't help but smile at the way Stella not-so-delicately pulled her hatbox down from the rack above her head, making no attempt to avoid hitting Charlie, who had also just woken up- and in no fine mood at that.

Priscilla took the lead then, smiling as she and Moody passed the foursome with a sly wink at Stella, who rolled her eyes. When the six of them were once more out on the platform in the noise and bustle, Charlie turned to the others pompously.

"Gilbert and Anne, we'll take the first cab- Moody had best escort the girls home before he goes to Deniston Street."

Anne choked slightly. "Charlie, you- you have moved into the boarding house already?"

"Naturally. I had my things moved in the day before I went home- and some of the fellows I lived with were _frightfully_ keen to help me get going."

"I just bet they were," Gilbert muttered until Anne elbowed him.

Moody rolled his eyes and turned to Stella and Priscilla. "I would be happy to escort you, if that works for you."

Stella shivered, pulling her coat closer. "Well, we'd better head home quickly- and I do hope Aunt Jimsie has the fire roaring. Come along, Mr MacPherson."

It was almost twenty minutes later when Gilbert and the driver finished loading the trunks into the cab, and he straightened to see Anne standing on the curb waving goodbye to the girls. He swallowed, seeing the fleeting pain on her face as she stepped back, for the first time not going home to Patty's Place.

Anne turned when she felt Gilbert's arm slip around her waist, and his look was kind. "We can go and see them tomorrow if you like," he said softly. "I know how much you miss them."

She turned to hide her face against his shoulder for just a moment. "It's foolish."

Gilbert turned her towards the cab. "It's not. But we have a Rusty-cat waiting for us at home-"

"Presumably-"

"And a Mushroom house that hopefully hasn't succumbed to mould in our absence."

He was pleased when she smiled, and he helped her in to sit across from Charlie, who was already instructing the driver on where he needed to go. All conversation was conducted by him, with complaints at the speed of the carriage, the rain that dared to fall, and the fact that his luggage was sandwiched between Anne and Gilbert's most unwisely. There was no conversation from the other two- they sat in silence as the cab moved through the streets, and Gilbert's gloved hand held her own through Charlie's diatribe.

At the house, Gilbert helped the cab driver with Charlie's belongings, thinking it prudent to rid themselves of his grumbling before they tackled their own. Charlie announced that he would visit the young couple for tea the following day, and left them on the doorstep- at which point Anne and Gilbert took their luggage in hand and proceeded to walk down the path to their home, surprised to see a curl of smoke coming up from the chimney, and a lamp lit in the windows.

"Mrs Whitley must have been in," Anne murmured, and Gilbert smiled, turning to pay the cab driver for assisting with their trunks.

Anne took the key from her purse while Gilbert was still searching in his pockets, and she pushed the door open to be greeted by Rusty purring around their legs ecstatically, and a surprisingly warm house. Anne smiled as she dropped her bags on the ground to pick up her cat, looking around her in contentment. Oh, everything was still brown, but after their time away, it was _home_. She could hear Gilbert grumbling good-naturedly about being left with the trunk, and chuckled to see him dragging it inside unassisted. He straightened up as Anne shoved the heavy door closed behind him, and she turned with a sigh of relief.

"Well, we may not get out, come morning; however, we are safely inside for the night," she said cheerfully, turning to see Gilbert picking up a note from their landlady.

He chuckled. "You know, I'm sure I remember being told that we would get no special treatment, Mrs Blythe- however, she's done it again: Mrs Whitley had some milk delivered to us since we would have no chance to shop tomorrow, and left a loaf of bread. And you are invited for tea whenever you are free."

Anne smiled, removing her jacket. "If I had been catering for ten or so men for a decade or two, I would be happy to have some female company as well," she added dryly. She sighed then, turning to survey the luggage with her hands on her hips. "I don't think I can face this mess tonight, Gil."

"Then don't. There's nothing that won't keep till tomorrow."

Anne couldn't hide her exhaustion and nodded. She found herself in their bedroom once again, her cheeks flushed. It hadn't been so long since they were there- and yet there was a shyness that was resurfacing as she moved to the chest of drawers to find a clean nightgown to change into. They had grown closer since they had last been here, it seemed- and now they were back in their bedroom, she found herself inexplicably wondering what Gilbert thought of her nightgowns. Perhaps Phil was _right_ about them. Not that it mattered, of course- there certainly didn't need to be any awareness of each other in _that_ sense, she told herself confusedly- and yet it was the prettiest one she selected now.

Completely for warmth, of course.

She readied herself for bed, somehow knowing that Gilbert was giving her all the space she needed. She had turned down the lamp by the time he knocked softly and was in her small bed with a book in her hand. He gave her a brief smile, somehow seeming larger than life as he crossed to turn down his own bed. Even with her eyes steadfastly on the pages- Dickens or Eliot, she wasn't at all sure- she could feel him moving past her into the changing room, his tie carelessly slung over the doorknob. She shivered slightly as the door closed behind him, now berating herself wondering about _his_ pyjamas. Good heavens, what was wrong with her? They had shared a room for two weeks, and she hadn't been this aware of him before, had she?

Anne didn't look up when he came out of the room, throwing his suit over the small chair in their bedroom. She waited for him to go toward his bed, however, it was to her that he came now, and she lifted her head to meet his eyes, furious at herself for blushing again. He reached down to touch the curls that had been tied back loosely with a ribbon.

"Oh- I hadn't put it back yet," Anne muttered sheepishly, reaching up to pull the mass over one shoulder.

"It's pretty, however you have it," Gilbert said with a shrug. "Even in those braids you wear to bed." She folded her arms crossly, however, he only grinned, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "Oh, and let me know what you think of my Chemistry book when you're done."

Anne looked down in shock to see that she had inadvertently selected a textbook to pretend to read- and it was clear that Gilbert knew that she hadn't been reading. She flushed in embarrassment as he moved to his own bed, and threw himself down with a satisfied groan that made her face like fire.

"I never thought I'd say this about the Mushroom, but there's no place like home."

Anne chuckled, pulling the ribbon from her hair to begin to braid it back as she heard Rusty come padding into the room. "So the damp didn't carry it away after all."

"No, and Rusty survived."

After a moment's indecision, Anne dropped the book beside her bed, turning to blow out the lamp. She snuggled down under the covers, allowing the long journey to recede from her mind as she finally relaxed. "Goodnight, Gil."

"Night, sweetheart."

* * *

Anne was woken at midday on Sunday by her grinning husband, who placed a tray of food by her bed and sat down in the small chair between their beds while she ate, his stockinged feet propped up on her bed. He had woken fully re-energised that morning, and after puttering around the house for some hours had decided that he had spent enough time without his wife. Anne commented that the trip had never seemed so long before- she could only surmise that their situation had placed extra strain on their holiday after all.

By four o'clock that afternoon their luggage was safely stowed away, and the extra blankets had been placed on the beds- and Anne and Gilbert sat down to tea with Mr Charles Sloane, Esquire. Anne's biscuits were light enough to make Marilla proud, and she served tea from the chipped blue teapot with all due decorum. Charlie was not easily impressed, and had a good deal to say about the monochromatic colour scheme- however, he admitted that for a ramshackle cottage, it wasn't so terrible. He had inspected the little house as far as he was able before a smiling Anne shut the bedroom door firmly, ushering him with great cordiality to the fireplace. Gilbert had caught the nosy gleam in his eye at the only door he had not been invited into, and they had no intention of allowing him to satisfy his curiosity about the finer points of their relationship. Thankfully Charlie was prompt to depart at six o'clock in the evening, not wishing to miss Mrs Whitley's much superior spread.

* * *

The holiday, and the relaxation of the previous day was far from Anne's mind by the time she arrived at Redmond the next morning. Gilbert had left for his classes earlier than she had, and she was running late as she entered the smaller of the English classrooms. Professor Winston was at the door as she rushed up, and he nodded, bored.

"Welcome back, Mrs Blythe. Head down the front, there is a seat between Mr Gardner and Miss Hallett."

Anne schooled her features as best as she could, and made her way to the front row of desks, as the professor proceeded to write the course outline on the board for them to copy down. The class were kept busy with their notes, and Anne was relieved to not have time for social niceties with those sitting beside her now. Three new set texts, a handful of smaller essays due in the weeks to come- she looked at the list of dates, feeling somewhat bewildered by the increase in workload this year.

Towards the end of the class, Professor Winston began handing back the assignments they had submitted before the holidays, taking time to talk to the students about their results. Anne was startled to be addressed by her neighbour now.

"Miss Shirley, had you a nice Christmas?" the velvety voice said from her left.

Anne cleared her throat, very aware that Claire was listening avidly on her right.

 _How had she not noticed her in this class before?_

"I see that you possess a short memory, Mr Gardner," Anne said carefully, her eyes on the parchment beneath her pen. "I spent Christmas with both mine and my husband's families."

"Ah, the husband, yes," Roy said lazily. "Forgive me, Mrs Blythe. You could make things simpler and allow me to use your first name, you know."

There was an interruption as Professor Winston handed Anne a sheaf of parchment while his students compared notes across the rows. "Excellent, Anne. I wasn't expecting anyone to pick the more subtle nuances in this piece- the author was a friend of mine."

Anne looked up in surprise. "Neil Cross?"

The older man nodded, his smile pleased. "He published it ten years ago- I've only just managed to get it added to the curriculum." He turned to Roy, his look stern. "Now, Mr Gardner, you performed moderately well on this essay- however, you need to delve more into the text."

Anne's eyes were on her own work, smiling slightly at the high score written in red at the top. It was the first she had completed since the incident at the football game- she was still faintly surprised that she had even remembered to turn it in. Over the rustling of papers around the room, she heard clearly the conversation going on beside her.

"I found the text rather whimsical, sir," Roy said, composed.

"In what way?"

"The author wishes to portray the plight of the poor- I simply believe that he exaggerated for the purpose of creating pathos."

Professor Winston's slate-grey eyebrows rose. "Your evidence?"

Roy shrugged kindly. "Sir, my family has been involved in charitable projects for many years now- I have visited these orphanages and shelters, and quite honestly have seen little deprivation and no misery."

Anne's red head came up, and she turned suddenly green eyes to the speaker. Professor Winston gave her an oddly appraising look, however, he turned back to Roy.

"You think they do not suffer?" he asked gravely.

Roy sighed, sitting up as he closed his notebook. "Professor, I have no doubt that many suffer; that is until help can be offered to them. I think the work being done in cities by those who can afford to be benevolent is good- and Mr Cross does a great disservice to the wealthy who give their time and finances toward such places. I should think gratitude should be expressed, first and foremost."

Anne placed her pen down on her desk in shaking fingers, and Roy turned at the sound to meet her inexplicably furious gaze.

"Do you not think that what you and your family saw was the public face presented for a benefactor?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.

"Miss Shirley-"

"That is _Mrs Blythe_ , Mr Gardner," Anne said crisply "Of course, the tables would have been polished when you visited. Everyone was in a nice, clean dress, and the tea was served on immaculate china. No doubt there were smiles all around for _you_ , the people who hold their job security in your hands."

Roy, to his credit, was utterly confused at the passion of her words. "Mrs Blythe, I meant to give no disrespect. I simply wonder if the author managed to see the work that was being done- or if he merely wished people to feel a certain way about the subject."

Professor Winston intervened now. "Gardner, you are entitled to your opinion. However do be aware that your privilege will not necessarily allow you to see another side to this."

Roy had the grace to concede this point, and rose to collect his books. "Sir, I agree, that we students are all privileged here. I flatter myself that I have always tried to understand another point of view- I will attempt to go back and see what I may have missed."

He nodded at Anne, and walked up the aisle to the door, leaving her to take up her own books in shaking hands. Her Professor's words stopped her.

"I'm sorry, Anne, I should not have questioned him before you, given the subject matter."

Anne's chin rose, and she gave him a piercingly clear look. "As you say, he is entitled to his opinion."

"And yet if our society- including those who have the most to give- is ever going to learn the truth, people need to speak up. To _write_."

Anne stopped, her brow lowered. "Sir?"

The older gentleman leant on the desk between them. "I was curious to see what you would make of Cross' work. It's told as fiction, and yet it's the truth, isn't it?"

Anne swallowed, her hand clenching around her notebook. "Yes."

"Anne, I have been waiting for you to write me something real," the teacher said quietly. "You can write, I saw that in your freshman year. It's fanciful, pretty- and it's an escape. Your own, I would assume."

Anne was pale, but she stood her ground. "I don't wish to glorify the ugliness of the world, sir. There is too much of it."

The older man's look was tired as he regarded one of his favourite pupils. "We need _both_ , Anne. We need the writers who will give us joy, and rest from our labours- but we need people who will bring us the truth that comes from experience. Neil Cross is like you, Anne. He _lived_ it. If the people don't know, how else can they change? How else can we reshape a deeply flawed and neglectful society?"

Anne managed a shaky laugh. "I was under the understanding that I needed to not rock the boat for the next eighteen months."

He nodded, his look thoughtful. "Perhaps what this world needs is someone who dares to rock it, Mrs Blythe. Personally, I think that you need to write the story that frightens you the most. I think the world needs to read it."

He gathered his books, leaving behind a shaken Anne. Eventually, she made it outside, her gloves in one hand, hitching her satchel higher on her shoulder.

"Mrs Blythe," she heard, then, and turned to see Roy standing beside the steps. He was oddly pale and took her free hand in his. "I apologise, Anne- I didn't mean to offend you."

Anne drew her hand back immediately, her grey eyes huge. "Mr Gardner-"

" _Roy_ ," he insisted. "I have no idea what I said that was so upsetting to you, but I apologise."

Anne stiffened, seeing several people watching them curiously. "Mr Gardner, our differing opinions needn't concern you."

"Then why should _my_ opinion upset you?"

Anne's chin rose, her eyes watchful. "Forgive me, but your opinion on this subject is a result of ignorance. _Understandable_ ignorance, and perhaps justifiable, but still wrong."

There was enough pride in the man to make the dark eyes flash, however, his voice remained calm. "Anne, I do not understand what I have done to earn such censure from you about a mere story."

"No. You wouldn't," she said, her eyes glittering. "I will only say that you will never be able to understand what goes on behind the doors of one of your institutions. No one in charge of such a place would ever allow you or your peers to see it."

Roy's forehead creased. "And why would _you_ be aware of that?"

A faintly bitter smile rose on Anne's lips as she stepped away. "I suggest that you read the book again, Mr Gardner."

It was Roy who watched her slim figure walk away this time, his forehead creased in confusion. At the sound of the bell from the tower, he shook himself and turned to walk toward his next class, not seeing a pair of narrowed blue eyes following him the whole way.

* * *

When Anne arrived home from college later that day, she threw herself onto her bed in a way that would have made Marilla scold terribly. She looked up at her brown ceiling with a frown, angry at herself for being so upset by Royal Gardner's misguided opinions.

She had known she was right from his first words. How many people had she seen come and go through the orphanage in one year? Richly dressed men and women, looking at the orphans in their shining morning faces, curtsying as they had been taught, to show deference to the people who visited. Anne shivered and clamped down the memories as she had often done, closing her eyes and imagining Dryad's Bubble in the springtime. In the early days at Green Gables, she had often gone there when memories plagued her, imagining them washing away with the trickling spring. The mellow sound would soothe her, and then she would hear Marilla calling her from the house- and she would remember that it was nothing more than a memory.

There was the sound of the front door screeching, and she chuckled half-heartedly- Gilbert must be home. After the unpleasantness of the day, she smiled to hear his cheerful call, and he soon stomped into the bedroom to stop at her prone state.

"You told me I shouldn't do that," he said, amused.

"After the day I had, I decided that I was _justified_ in flopping on my bed."

Gilbert sat down beside her, leaning his head back against the quilt tiredly. "I quite agree. I can't believe it's only been one day. You were right, Avonlea was a respite."

Anne sat up, turning to place her feet on the floor beside him again, tucking her skirt in carefully. "What happened?"

He sighed, raising a hand to ruffle his brown hair. "Hallett wants me in his office in the morning."

Anne paled. "Why?"

"Oh, he's checking up on me- on us," Gilbert said, his lack of enthusiasm apparent. "'After the _circumstances of last year_ ,' was how he put it."

Anne bit her lip, nervously. "Well, I suppose we had that coming. Are you worried?"

He tipped his head back to look at her and shrugged. "Not really. We've done what they asked, and our grades are higher than ever. He just wants to keep an eye on us, I think, to make sure we behave ourselves appropriately."

Anne chuckled suddenly. "Mrs Lynde would agree. I wonder what she would make of him?"

"Mincemeat, I should assume." Gilbert reached up to take her hand, then. "So what happened to _you_ today?"

Anne was still and then shook her head. "Can I perhaps tell you later?" she asked slowly. "I just want to forget it for a little while now."

He turned to her fully, his eyes anxious. "Are you sure we shouldn't talk now?"

She nodded, and slipped down beside him on the braided mat Marilla had insisted on sending with them. "Would you make me laugh, Gil?" she asked tiredly. "Just for a little while, before we start to get our supper ready."

Gilbert couldn't help but smile. "Charlie almost burnt off Professor Elston's moustache today."

Anne blinked at him, a disbelieving smile on her lips. "Really?"

Gilbert soon had her chuckling, hearing how their classmate had attempted to explain that the mistake was entirely the sixty-year-old professor's fault. He was pleased to see her lighten, and soon the two of them moved back to the kitchen to assemble a simple meal to indulgently eat before the fire. She looked content, and her hand was brushing his on the sofa, and Gilbert decided that he couldn't bring himself to ask what had gone wrong that day. She would tell him sometime, he was sure. He rose to do the dishes instead and announced that he would take his bath in the bedroom then, leaving her to study in the living room before the fire.

Anne assisted him to fill the bath with only a minimum of blushing that time and soon found herself in front of her desk with a primrose shawl around her shoulders; looking thoughtfully at the sprig of pine that Gilbert had placed in a jar, the spicy scent rising in the warmth of the room. She pulled from her box a story she had been working on in her free time, a tale of romance from the Arabian courts- and her eyes skimmed the words. She worried her lip as she placed it back, and drew out a fresh sheet of paper.

It would be for no one else, she thought stubbornly. She didn't owe the world this story, whatever the professor believed about it. She swallowed suddenly, thinking of Roy's dismissive comments- similar echoes of which had fallen on younger ears when she lived at the Hopetoun Asylum. Perhaps- perhaps she owed it to herself- to the girl who had been allowed no voice in her welfare. Anne's pencil hovered above the page for a time, wondering if she could do it- if she dared.

She lowered the pencil to the page- and there in the neat script that Miss Stacey had helped her to shape as a girl, she slowly wrote these words-

 _Beneath the Stairs._


	16. Chapter 16, Islands

**Chapter 16**

On the twenty-first of January, Kingsport recorded its lowest temperature in a decade. Students huddled about in small groups trying to remain protected from the icy wind, and the stern librarian grumbled that never was the place so busy, as when it was cold outside. The snow was holding off for the time being, with great heavy clouds threatening all kinds of chaos when it finally broke. Gilbert watched the sky uneasily, and could be seen outside chopping firewood in his spare moments, storing it under the low eaves beside the outhouse. They didn't want to be caught out in this kind of weather.

Anne had taken to brewing tea with lemon and honey to stave off the sore throats that were strained through the long days running to and fro at college, and piled their beds high with the blankets sent from home. On the nights when the temperature grew too chilly, she placed heated bags of rice that Marilla had sent at the foot of their beds, much to Gilbert's astonishment. The pump in the kitchen was harder to use on these days, and mugs of tea were nursed in the morning in chapped hands before the door to an icy world would be wrenched open with increasing reluctance.

A pattern of sorts was establishing itself now at the Mushroom. On most afternoons, Anne and Gilbert would arrive home within an hour of each other, and Gilbert's cooking lessons became a reality- as he said, chemistry and cooking were certainly related. As the cold wrapped around the little house, the home was becoming a haven of warmth, and evenings were spent studying together where the wind was unable to penetrate.

On Tuesdays, Charlie would come for tea, and sit arguing the finer points of chemistry and history with Gilbert. Anne sat with her sewing or schoolwork, her eyes twinkling at the teasing from her husband that Charlie would never fully understand. She couldn't begrudge Charlie the time; Phil had told her that he had put more than one person in their place publicly, asserting that his old friends had a right to get married, whenever, and to _whomever_ , they chose.

College had proved challenging, in more ways than one. There was much speculation once the marriage became public knowledge, and Anne was growing tired of explaining what they could not explain. Those in her classes watched her with open curiosity, and Anne grew more sensitive to their stares and whispers.

 _"It was so quick- I didn't even know they were courting."_

 _"Maybe it was a merger between families?"_

 _"No- I don't think they have money like that."_

 _"Oh, come on, we used to see her going everywhere with him- they've been in love for years."_

" _She'll have to leave college if she gets pregnant, surely."_

Anne sat still in class, clenching together shaking fingers. Surely it would die down soon. The weight of it, however, was starting to wear on her. Phil and the girls had insisted on taking her to one of the tearooms as a treat the day before, and she had needed to turn away from another table of girls who were watching Anne- and their focus was not on her face.

A compassionate Priscilla nudged Anne. "Ignore them. They'll find something else to talk about soon," she had said comfortingly.

* * *

At the end of class on this particular day, Anne was stopped by none other than Claire Hallett- and stood still, her face impassive.

"Well! You and Gilbert are certainly making an impression on campus as Redmond's only married couple. No doubt you love the notoriety."

Anne smiled calmly. "We aren't the only students who are married, Claire. And we certainly aren't notorious. A simple life and a good education are all we want."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Oh, _please_ , Anne. Do you hear yourself? I'd be surprised if you came to college merely to get married. You're hardly the type."

"And what am I, Claire?"

"The _ambitious_ type, I think," Claire said sweetly. "Sometimes I wonder if the 'getting married' was a little bit- _accidental_."

Anne forced herself to laugh, seeing to her chagrin that Roy was packing up his books, listening intently. "Marriage is far too serious to be an accident, Claire."

There was a pause, then. "And if I see your marriage as a smokescreen for something else?"

Green eyes met blue, and Claire took a step back at Anne's fury. "Your opinion means nothing to me. The only opinion I care for is my husband's- and my own. If we are happy, then that is enough."

Anne lifted her chin and swept from the room, the door banging closed behind her.

"Well," the other woman said with spite, and Roy turned to her curiously.

"Why do you bait her, Miss Hallett?"

"Why does everyone insist on defending her?" she spat. "What has she done that is so spectacular?"

Roy was unperturbed. "She's exceptional. She's led the class since her freshman year, hasn't she?"

Claire picked up her books, throwing him a brittle smile. "Perhaps. But she isn't the only one who can write."

* * *

The article in the Redmond Chronicle came out in late January. It was read by every student, whispered over in the dining halls, and passed from hand to hand with speed. Most believed there was at least some truth in it- and many more eyes were directed towards the couple that were trying to evade everyone's curiosity.

Gilbert was summoned to Professor Hallett's office that same day and asked if he had read it- to which he stiffly answered in the negative. He was handed the paper, and sat before Hallett's desk, his eyes moving over the anonymous article, wondering sickly if Anne had seen it yet.

"Well?"

Gilbert bit back the temptation to say something sharp and folded his arms belligerently.

"Is there anything you wish to say?"

"Yes," Gilbert said, gritting his teeth. " _Who wrote this?_ "

"That is irrelevant."

Gilbert bounded to his feet then, furious. "Sir, it is a college publication. It's one of the students in the school- someone who thinks that it would be a lark to destroy our reputations. I want to know who it is."

The professor's gaze was steady. "Why? So you can exact justice?" He took the paper back, folding it meticulously. "The article calls for your resignation from the student committee and the football team."

Gilbert paused. "Are you demanding that of me, sir?"

"I am tempted." Hallett looked at him, his eyes narrowed. "Perhaps it would be easier for you and Miss Shirley if you removed yourself from the limelight."

Gilbert ignored Anne's incorrect name and shook his head. "I won't do that." At the professor's surprise, he sighed, exasperated. "And no, it's not me trying to cling to power. The position holds all the glory and influence of a goat-herder." Gilbert didn't see the hint of a smile on the older man's face, and by the time he looked back his face was carefully blank. "If you want to remove me from the position, then do it. But I won't resign. That tells everyone that we've done something wrong."

"Some would argue that you _did_ , Mr Blythe."

Gilbert exhaled in frustration. "Professor, we have done everything you asked since that moment. We know that were in the wrong to get into that situation; we've never argued that despite the fact that it was completely _innocent_ \- we agreed to get married within one week just to please the faculty, however unreasonable it was of you to ask that- however much that hurt our families- all for the sake of our educations. We have worked to make sure that our grades have not suffered- and you know they haven't." There was a slight nod of acknowledgement, and for just a moment Gilbert let down his guard as he met Professor Hallett's gaze. "Sir, Anne and I live a modest and quiet life together as a married couple- you know you would have heard otherwise if we did anything else."

Professor Hallett steepled his fingers together noncommittally. "Perhaps."

"You cannot expect us to be responsible for gossip and hearsay; _this_ -" Gilbert shook the paper- "isn't the truth. I think you know that of us by now. And you can't ask me to not attempt to protect my wife from this garbage."

The professor looked at Gilbert for a long time, weighing up his choices. The younger man's manner irritated him, in asserting their innocence needlessly. And yet he'd been checking with their teachers, who reported them doing well- quiet, restrained, albeit bettering their results somewhat. Sadly, there wasn't anyone on the student committee who would do a better job- he'd had less fuss since Gilbert had taken over the position. The coach of the football team would be livid if he removed his best player. Why make more work for himself?

"I won't ask for it- _yet_ ," Hallett said reluctantly. "You are a leader here at Redmond, and you need to expect that people will talk. I suggest that you learn to navigate it better." With a sigh he pushed back from the desk, indicating that he was done.

Gilbert eyed him boldly. "Sir, you _do_ know who wrote this, don't you?"

The professor stood up slowly. "It's not your concern, Blythe. It's out there now, and it will be until it blows over. Anything you do to stop it will only make it last longer in the public eye- and you and your wife cannot afford to react." Hallett nodded just before Gilbert closed the door behind him.

He picked up the paper in one hand and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

He would have to have yet another talk with his daughter about using the paper for her own means.

* * *

Gilbert arrived home to see Anne taking something from the oven- how had she had the time to do that around her classes? She was focusing on the biscuits now, tapping them gently to see if they were done.

"Gil, you're letting the cold air in."

He shook himself, and pushed it closed, both of them wincing at the harsh sound. "I need to find a sunny day to fix that," he grumbled. "A day where I can take it off its hinges for a few hours."

Anne wiped her hands, reading the dough for another tray. "Well, that day is not today. It might need to wait until spring."

Gilbert 's heart sank. He'd expected her to be devastated- her calm could only mean that she hadn't yet read the article. As he hung his coat on the hook, he turned to see Anne standing behind him.

"What's wrong, Gil?" she asked quietly.

He gave her a smile that was forced. "You haven't read the Chronicle yet, have you?"

"Actually, I did."

Gilbert turned to her in surprise. "Then _why_ \- why aren't you-"

"More upset?" At his short nod, she sighed, pulling the tea towel off her shoulder. "Stella showed me it after class today. It's biting and clever, but it's also cowardly. After all, they used no names- and they didn't sign the piece. That is the definition of cowardice, in my opinion."

Gilbert sat down on the arm of the chair, despondent. "Hallett called me into his office about it." He was silent for a moment, before lightly thumping the old sofa with his fist. "We're doing everything we can to keep a low profile here- we hardly go out now unless it's for college. What more do they want from us?"

Anne gave a half-hearted smile. "For us to fail, Gil."

To her surprise, he shook his head, somewhat puzzled. "Anne, call me insane, but I actually don't think that's what Hallett wants."

Anne's eyebrow rose. "He certainly expects it."

"Maybe, but that's not the same thing. He gave us a chance, at least. He didn't ask for my resignation as the student body president today- although he expected me to give it."

"I hope you didn't."

"I did not."

Anne sat down on the other side of him, and Gilbert turned to her. "So why _aren't_ you more upset?"

"I was," Anne said reluctantly. "Phil and the girls followed me into the dressing rooms to fish me out of my misery, so to speak. I cried- I was furious- and I missed my Philosophy lecture over it. However, I should have expected this." Anne's head fell back on the sofa, her grey eyes distant. "It's a nasty blow- but I have realised that they have deployed all their weapons in one. They insinuated a disgrace, questioned our quick marriage, and focused the school's attention on us- but what more can they say?" she asked unexpectedly. "There's nothing left, Gil. They will never be able to get this reaction from everyone again. People are fickle, and will grow bored when they see nothing else occurring."

"I wish I could believe that."

Anne's eyes softened. They were starting to make this marriage work- although the toll on them was very hard at times. The article had been scathing, and brushed with enough facts to sound convincing- and there could be no doubt that Anne and Gilbert were the intended targets. Phil had been livid and promised retribution to the paper, however, Anne was wiser- they needed to let it rest for now. Claire's gloating expression was evident as she passed her in the hallway that day too, although Anne would never give her the satisfaction of admitting that she knew it had been her work.

"Gil?"

He turned his drawn face to her, and after a moment of hesitation Anne rose to hug him, and he buried his curly head on her shoulder for long moments in the silence of the little house. He sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, not caring how needy he was being- being in her arms was bliss. Eventually, Gilbert pulled away to half-heartedly grin at his wife. "Do we have to go back to college? Couldn't we just become shop owners somewhere? No one cares what they do."

Anne's peal of laughter made him smile. "Blythe Grocers, perhaps? Or we could take over the Blair's store at home, and traffic in butter and sugar and fabric for all of our days."

"Living above the store? Definitely. At least there would be no excuse for our accounts to be wrong." Gilbert laughed then, her cheerfulness working on him as did her embrace. "I know, I know. I'm just fed up with the gossip- and with doing things that we don't want to do to please people that we don't like."

Anne chuckled and gave him a long, candid look. "You and I are rebellious by nature, Gil. We'll survive this. Our future isn't limited to a store, I promise you that."

* * *

Gilbert's parents had sent word that they would need to defer their visit until March- something the young couple agreed was for the best. Anne's prediction proved correct- in a reasonably short space of time, the furore surrounding their relationship died down- not, however, without leaving behind scars. Anne and Gilbert said little about the article over the next few weeks and comported themselves with as much dignity at college as they could muster. There were comments and insinuations, outright sneers and impertinent questions from relative strangers. At college they were more guarded in the way they interacted with each other, anxious to not fuel the fire. Gilbert was faintly uneasy about this, however, he wasn't going to push Anne anymore than she already was- Stella had commented on her apparent calm in the face of the judgment, however, Gilbert knew better by now.

The spotlight turned from them when another scandal took centre stage in early February. The couple in question was asked to leave college in disgrace, and a distraught Anne went home to Gilbert, guilty that they themselves had seemed to escape so lightly. Gilbert was surprised that the girl who had stood so firmly in the face of the slanderous article was so shaken now, and it was his turn to try and comfort her. She wasn't sleeping well, he knew that much- many nights he had awoken to find her bed empty, and she was out before the fireplace, staring blankly into the flames. Several days later, Gilbert reluctantly told her that there had been some substance to the rumours this time- and nothing would save them from the consequences of that.

It was with an effort that Anne put the news behind her again, turning instead to work even harder on her coursework. Every now and then in the evenings, she would lift her head to see Gilbert working on the other side of the table, and she would wonder bleakly what their future would hold. Would they ever be free of their origins? Free to live, and be themselves again? The seemingly endless winter, endless expectations, and the feeling that there was always someone watching took its toll, and she found herself withdrawing from the girls, and even from Gilbert himself.

Gilbert felt the distance acutely, and it worried him- especially when the closeness Anne had at one point allowed began to grow less. He tried not to feel hurt, trying to understand that things were simply unsettled at the moment- however as the days crept on, he began to wonder just what he was supposed to do.

* * *

On a windy Thursday afternoon, Phil dropped into a seat at the library across from Gilbert at the library.

Gilbert barely looked up from his work. "You usually don't haunt this place," he commented, turning the page in his mathematics book.

Phil shrugged. "I had a free hour. I don't see why we should be given so much homework- you and I are already three chapters ahead."

"Our classmates aren't, though. Were you asked to tutor some of them as well?"

Phil shook her head, her brown eyes twinkling. "Certainly not. No teaching degree, remember?"

Gilbert snorted. "I assure you that classroom management skills don't apply to the McNeil twins. I'm earning every cent they pay me."

Phil sat back on her seat, watching Gilbert carefully. "How are things really going with you and Anne?"

He seemed to flinch slightly, and his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because I care about you both," she said simply. "And it's been a rough winter for you both."

Gilbert placed his pencil down and faced her. "Now why would you say that?"

Phillipa Gordan was no novice in disarming defensive people, and she leant across the table, her manner deceptively gentle. "Gil, I'm not your enemy. I have no ulterior motive here. I'm sure it's hard for you to trust anyone but Anne right now- but for your own sakes, the two of you need to remember who your friends are."

He exhaled, folding his arms. "True. I'm sorry."

Phil's look turned pleading. "Gilbert, _talk_ to me. You need help- I can see how tense the two of you are at college- and you haven't come around to Patty's Place in weeks. I watched the two of you say goodbye in the courtyard this morning, and it was like nothing had changed between you."

Gilbert bit back an exclamation, and he leant forward, his voice low. "That's because I've realised that nothing _has_ really changed. I'm still the man she was not ready to court, let alone marry in a storm of controversy."

Phil sighed. "You avoided the storm, you goose."

"Not completely," he grumbled, pulling his book toward him.

Phil was not to be deterred and pushed it away again. "Gil, the two of you need us," she said bluntly. "I know you are making the best of the situation together, she tells me that you couldn't be more wonderful, and she's so grateful. But you need to stop isolating yourselves- and publicly you need to make a better show of it."

"We don't need a circus!"

Phil gave him an exasperated look. "Gil, you need to stop acting like you are guilty of something."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "And how do you suggest we do that?" he asked curtly, before pausing. "She's so tense, lately- I don't know what else I can do." He sat back on his chair and sighed, exhausted. "Phil, did you know that I was going to propose to her last April?"

Phil's jaw dropped. "Gilbert, _really_?"

His grin was sardonic. " _Really_. What do you think her reaction would have been?"

Phil swallowed uncomfortably, suddenly remembering Anne sobbing on her bed only a few months ago. "I'm afraid- I think she might have said no."

Gilbert's look was tired. "Congratulations, Miss Gordon. I came to the same conclusion."

Phil shook herself. "Alright. But until that wretched newspaper article came out, the two of you were doing quite well."

"Yes. It felt- like it was real," he said dully. "I don't know how to reach her now- and she just keeps telling me that she's fine."

Phil sighed, her heart aching for the young couple. "Gilbert, it's a hard season- I understand that. But don't forget how far the two of you have come. And she is your wife, now. As such, you _are_ at least courting now."

He couldn't help chuckling, ruffling his hair with a lean, brown hand. "You might say that."

Phil grabbed his arm then, after making sure no one could overhear them. "So court her properly. Don't you get it? She's already said yes. She needs to be romanced, and won- but you've already got over the hardest part because she's already with you."

For a moment hope flickered in his eyes, before he swallowed and spoke with painful honesty. "I don't want to just be the man she settled for."

Phil placed her hands on the table before her, looking at him fiercely. "You're not. Gil, she wasn't ready for all this- but she went into it because it was _you_. You know that. I think she's not ready to admit she has had feelings about you for a long time. Now, I won't say it will be easy to woo someone who is already married to you- but I think with Anne, you can consider it an advantage."

Gilbert frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that for someone who is as obsessed with romance as she is, she is notoriously skittish about anything that approaches actual love."

"Phil, that's an awful thing to say!"

"It's the truth." She folded her arms on the table and met his eyes frankly. "Don't forget, I've been living with her for the past year and a half, Gil. She's tremendously open and confident- until she suddenly _isn't_. I've seen countless boys lose their heads over her. She's everything that is charming and witty, but she's never let anyone close enough to get to know her properly. That's on purpose, Gilbert."

Gilbert's jaw clenched. "Maybe she just never liked any of them."

"But she really did like _you_. And you got the same treatment. Now call me crazy, but I think that proves my point."

Gilbert sat in silence for a moment, his eyes hot with anger. "I think you forget that we grew up together. I know Anne Shirley better than you think I do."

Phil smiled sadly. "I haven't forgotten. But there's a part of her that she's not letting anyone near- and I don't know what it is, any better than you do." She sat back, and Gilbert was startled to see that her brown eyes were moist. "Let me help you, Gil. We need to protect the two of you from the public- to do that, you both need to behave like the married couple you are. You need to get out more- and start having some fun again." To his shock then, she reached around to pinch him then, her look cross. "And you need to stop trying to do this alone! Have us all around for your housewarming- and stop hiding at home. We can get you through this."

Gilbert was silent for a moment, and he ruffled his hair with a sigh. "We're grateful, you know."

Phil grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. "I do. Now- you need to do something for me."

Gilbert scowled at her. "You said there were no agendas."

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," she said idly, before turning suddenly anxious eyes on him. "Invite Jo to come to your housewarming. He likes you, and he needs to get to know all of us- and seeing him only once a week is-"

Gilbert let out a shout of laughter. "Phil- I don't need to hear all of the details. Of course, he'll be invited."

Phil was smug. "Wonderful." She blinked as he began to pack up his belongings. "You're done now?"

"Not yet. I just want to get home to Anne."

* * *

That night, when the chores were done and the fire was banked high, Gilbert watched Anne pull her books from her satchel as per custom, and move them to the table. He stood by his own in indecision, until the thought of another evening spent studying made him move.

Anne looked up from her work. "What is it, Gil?"

He sat down opposite her, making her eyebrows rise. Usually, he took over Anne's desk, needing the space it offered. "I wondered if we could do something different tonight."

Anne laid down her pen, her grey eyes bleary. "Like what?"

Gilbert gave a wry grin. "Anything that doesn't involve schoolwork." She gave him a slight smile, and he shrugged, his hands deep in his pockets. "Do you know what I used to do for fun?"

"Torment those around you?"

He snorted, nevertheless glad to see the amusement in her eyes. "I just- we're doing this wrong," he admitted. "I used to work six days of the week on my classwork- I'd take a morning off for church on Sundays, and one night a week to come and see _you_."

Anne shot him a faintly bewildered glance. "You came to see everyone."

"No, it was you," he said bluntly, his hazel eyes twinkling. "Don't tell the other girls though- you know how jealous they get."

Anne rolled her eyes, folding her arms. "Well, you see me daily now."

"I know. And yet we're still not having any fun." As soon as he heard himself, Gilbert laughed and put up his hands in defense, seeing the anger building in her expression. "I didn't mean _that_ , Anne; I meant that we used to work around the clock- except that when we were together, we would put work aside to do something fun. Like a walk in the park- or we'd go to something at the college, or stay in and talk. It's like we've forgotten how to do that."

Anne was fighting a war between despondency, hurt and outrage. Did he think that she was no fun, now that they were married?

"Now before you go and tell me that I think you are no fun now-" here Anne choked in indignation- "I think I ought to remind you that all work and no play is making us dull. I know it's been hard lately, but we're young- in fact, you're a mere infant, compared to me-" He dodged the kick she offered his ankle under the table and chuckled at her scowling face. "Anne-girl, we've fallen into a rut. We're both fighting to stay positive, and it's been hard- really hard." His voice softened, and he reached across the table to take her clenched hands. "It's been pointed out to me that we won't change opinions by working ourselves into the ground, or by isolating ourselves. We need to relax- and I thought we could start tonight. And we have a marriage to nurture, after all."

Anne couldn't help but soften, seeing his sincerity. "Phil tried to tell me so last week too."

Gilbert sat up, injured. "You mean she only came to me because _you_ didn't listen? We could have had this discussion a week ago?"

Anne sighed. "I didn't know how, Gil. I just feel so guilty. We could have _been_ that other couple. We could have had to give up college because we were foolish-"

"Anne, love, they got pregnant," Gilbert said flatly. "Now, I'm sure I'm as virile as any man, but basic biology states that just taking off my shirt and you colliding with my shoulder is not enough to impregnate you." He ignored her squeak of shock and continued gently. "We didn't do anything to feel this guilty about. And I'm sorry, but they _did_. You have to stop putting yourself in their place."

Anne looked up at him with eyes that reminded him of a bruised flower. "Can't you?" she asked him. "Can't you imagine what that would be like to become caught up in passion, and subsequently make a mistake like that? Are we so different?"

Gilbert moved around the table to kneel beside her, tugging at her hands until she turned to face him. "Of course I can imagine it. But it's not our life to live out. We're being smart about this-" he paused foolishly, and gave her a sheepish grin. "Well, maybe not then, but we're doing it _now_. We have to present a united front at college- but it's more than that. We need to get to know each other better- I want to court you properly, Anne. It'll do us good to take time away from our studies- remember how you used to pull me into the woods when we needed a break? That's what I want to do." He looked at the cluttered table then, and frowned. "Do you have anything due tomorrow?"

Anne smiled and shook her head. "What should we do?"

He grinned at her. "I'm thinking hot tea by a warm fire- and just talking. I miss talking to you."

Anne chuckled, watching him pile her books up untidily. "And I made an apple pie with some of your mother's preserves today- I think we have enough jars to last us at least until the summer."

Gilbert snorted. "Don't count on it. She's bringing more when she comes."

Throughout the evening, Anne's face brightened visibly. He made her chuckle with tales of Phil's arguments with the mathematics professor, including a stand-off with Daniels himself over a missing coefficient. She told him that she had inquired about an advertisement for an English tutor for two Freshman girls, suggesting that the extra money would be useful. Gilbert was encouraging, which allowed her to bring up a previous discussion about finding positions for the summer, after Fred and Diana's wedding. There were a few possibilities on the island, and they both agreed to keep looking for the time being.

Gilbert couldn't help but smile to see her looking animated again. So there was a time to help Anne to open up- although he had to admit that he wasn't sure why she had allowed him to push it this time. He'd learn, he supposed. Their talk ranged far and wide, and the air of tension that had rested on their home for weeks seemed to ease as they re-established the kindred between them. He watched the expressions move across her face, the firelight bringing glowing colour to her ivory skin. He followed the gestures of her pretty hands, reflecting dreamily that he often just watched them as she talked- graceful and elegant, and proudly bearing the rings he had given her. How had he ever become this lucky?

As the night closed in, Anne showed Gilbert Diana's latest letter, who told them that they had chosen another bridesmaid and groomsman at her mother's insistence. Mrs Barry had evidently not forgiven Anne for the wedding that had usurped her daughter's, however, Diana was equally as determined to not allow Anne to be kept away.

 _I will make sure that you are assisting me, my darling, and no one else- my bridesmaid will be one of mother's cousins, and she is such a whining, obnoxious thing- when we visited her in the holidays, she asked me to make sure that her dress would not clash with her complexion, as she wanted to maintain her good looks, even if she was supposed to be there to serve me. Have you ever heard anything so rude? She will be partnered by Moody- Fred wrote to him and asked him a few weeks ago. I believe he was quite chuffed to be asked to do it again._

When the old clock on the mantle struck eleven, and the couple were starting to think of their beds, Anne was still for a moment in indecision. Gilbert was lounging back on the rug comfortably, and she found her heart pounding oddly in her chest, wondering if now was the right time.

"Gilbert?"

"Mmm?"

Anne smoothed her skirts over her knees nervously and studied her stockinged feet. "I'm- I'm writing something."

Gilbert blinked at her. "Something for school?"

"No- it's not for anyone. Only- me."

He smiled, then. "That's wonderful, sweetheart."

Anne chuckled, her cheeks heating. "Oh, I don't know about that- and no one will want to make a baking powder advertisement out of it."

Gilbert sat up then, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Hey- as long as it's something that you love writing, it doesn't matter."

"I don't exactly love this," she said slowly. "It's- complicated."

He seemed flummoxed, and eventually nodded. "Alright. Do you want me to read it?"

She shook her head, her eyes lowered. "Not now. Maybe someday. I'm not telling anyone that I'm working on it- not even the girls, or Di. It's hardly something people will want to read. But it felt right to let you know that I'm trying."

Gilbert nodded and nudged her lightly. "I've sometimes wondered if you will write about all _this_ one day." Her sudden laugh was enough to reassure him that she wasn't doing it yet, and he smiled. "Thank you for telling me." Her look was warm, and for the first time in a few weeks he bent down to lightly kiss her. "You'll tell me when you finish it?"

She nodded, her head resting on his broad shoulder for a moment. She couldn't help but smile, loving the familiarity of his scent. Somehow, against all odds, they were doing it.

 _Together_.


	17. Chapter 17, By Waters Deep

**Hello again! I did laugh at people commenting so much on the cold in my story- can you tell that it's grey and wintery in Aus right now? My desk is chilly... I might need to rethink where I write before we get to A &G's summer. Thank you all for reviewing, it blesses me so much that you take the time to tell me what you think! You've made me smile so often- and I'm grateful for every reader and follower. You're all pretty used to me by now- so I think you can see that I've kind of given up on the idea of a SHORT chapter. Why fight my nature? And a little bonus that made me laugh: there's a tiny comment in this chapter that every Aussie should hear in an infamous politician's voice. Bonus points to you if you spot it... **

**Much love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

The middle of February saw the Mushroom host its first party, and every surface appeared to be covered with people. The Patty's Place girls were the first to arrive with Jonas and Aunt Jimsie, bringing gifts to counteract the brownness of the landscape. Phil had found a handsome blue throw for the sofa, and darker blue cushions were scattered across it from Stella, Priss and Aunt Jimsie. Several of their classmates from various classes had been invited, sitting in front of the fire and talking with Gilbert about their coursework, and enjoying the supper Anne had prepared. She stood back with Aunt Jimsie in the kitchen, watching the merriment.

"It looks so homelike," Anne said softly. "I never imagined this place could become that for us."

The older woman smiled, as Phil's laugh sounded through the living room. "You'll be surprised how easily that is done, dear, even with a brown ceiling. Are you content here?"

Anne looked across to where Gilbert was laughing at something Timothy Peterson had just said, and she smiled. "I think we are. It's awkward at times, sometimes we get frustrated with each other- but he- he's my best friend."

Aunt Jimsie patted her hand, a knowing look on her kind face. "As your husband should be. Do mind that you come and see me when you need to, dear."

"You know that I do, Auntie."

The older woman looked at her curiously. There was as yet no consciousness on her young face- perhaps she was not yet ready for that conversation. Still, she remembered the long talks before the hurried wedding- they had some time. Although if the look on Anne's young husband's face was any indication, he was getting there swiftly.

Aunt Jimsie looked approvingly at the food that Anne had prepared, and behind her the tiny kitchen was in order, waiting for the rolls to come out of the oven. The older woman chuckled, seeing the housewifely care that sat on Anne's ivory brow, the careful way she moved to the stove to check them and make sure that the crown of pineapple doily was perfectly centred under the plate for service. Anne gave the lace a little pat, her eyes tender.

The previous day Anne and Gilbert had been summoned to their door by a courier, delivering several inconveniently large boxes. Gilbert paid the man with a mystified look on his face and carried them inside to the small table to meet Anne's wide-eyed gaze.

"Were you expecting something from home?"

Gilbert shook his head and opened the box with his pocket knife, beginning to laugh at the way the contents were packed so tightly. They were made up of many smaller parcels- wedding gifts, his mother's accompanying letter stated.

 _People kept dropping them by, dear- and we really couldn't bring them all with us in March. Marilla had been given some for the two of you as well, and we decided to send them off together. Do be careful with the smaller box, dear, it contains a jug from Aunt Mary Maria- who insisted on sending something, even though she was poisonously sweet about- (and I quote) "not being invited to her favourite great-nephew's wedding." Please warn Anne about her, Gilbert; she is threatening to visit this summer._

Anne looked up from a parcel from Diana, her big grey eyes brimming with tears. She showed Gilbert the intricate doilies she had sent, with the little note making her laugh.

 _I know that you won't have time to make a complement of these yet- just think of me as doing this in lieu of my bosom friend. These are some of the prettiest ones from my stash- I figured that you would need it, far away from your beloved woods. And in return, you can tell me all the things I don't know yet about sharing a house with a husband…_

As they sorted through the boxes, Anne and Gilbert both realised that it was more than gifts being given; it was support that they desperately needed, and it was the blessing of home. Marilla sent braided mats she had been working on over the winter, Mrs Lynde some neatly embroidered pillowslips- with a careful note about how to launder them in the city air. The Harrison's remembered them, and a small parcel came from Jane, via the island- containing two more doilies and a short note of congratulation- with a demand for what for anyone else would call a _'Please Explain'._

Anne now carried the rolls out of the kitchen on the tray, smiling at the little homey touches around the room from their loved ones. Most of their classmates lived in boarding houses of varying degrees of comfort, and more than one set of eyes brightened at the warmth and noise of the little house. Jo had been invited as Gilbert had promised, and he sat now beside Phil, talking with Priscilla and one of Gilbert and Phil's mathematics classmates. She smiled, seeing that Phil had perched as close to him as she could- and how often Jo's green eyes were trained on her pretty friend, his wide smile evident as he watched her glowing face.

At ten o'clock precisely that night, Anne and Gilbert farewelled their guests, and Gilbert closed the door behind Charlie and one of the other boardinghouse fellows with a hefty sigh.

"Well, we did it! We entertained, and the Mushroom didn't burn down."

Anne chuckled, bending to scoop up some mugs from the table until Gilbert took them from her hands.

"Come on, cleaning up can wait until morning. It's been a long day."

Anne yawned. "True- although you must never tell anyone back home that I left it until tomorrow."

"I won't tell if you don't." Gilbert grinned as Anne paused to blow out the lamp in the sitting room. "You know, Mrs Blythe, I think we're getting the hang of this whole marriage thing."

* * *

It is universally known that a door that is hard to close, cannot easily be slammed. The frustration of the inability of a door to adequately convey- well, _frustration_ cannot be underestimated, and it was for this reason that on a cold, winter's day in February, Gilbert could be found outside the house with his father's old plane and chisel, working on it off the veranda while he attempted to shave the inconvenient length. It was good, physical work that made his heart pound, and he doggedly tried to work off his fury so that he could talk to his wife calmly whenever she arrived home.

Gilbert's classes had been done by midday. He had told Anne that the team would be practising until two on the oval, thankfully free of snow for the past week. Anne had indicated that she wished to go to the market after her classes- and he was still in a fragile state from her hesitation in asking if they could extend their food budget a little, as they had run out of several staple ingredients at once. Her discomfort in asking had made him react with surprising emotion, and she had found her red head pressed against his shoulder as he promised her everything he had in his wallet. Luckily she had ended up laughing- pointing out cheekily that if this was to be his response, their distant children would be hopelessly spoiled. He had squeezed her hand as they left the house together, his eyes showing wry amusement. He wondered if she brought up their hypothetical family on purpose- since at any point the mere thought of them turned him into a puddle of mush. He was sure that he'd agree to anything then.

Of course, the day was not yet over.

That afternoon, he'd looked up from where the fellows were running laps around the oval and almost fell over his feet to see his wife standing near the grandstands- looking as if she would be anywhere rather than there, at that moment. He jogged over to where she stood, ignoring the catcalls from his team.

"I didn't know you planned to come here," he said cheerfully, coming to stand in front of her. Her cheeks flushed, and he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes flickered to his body. He felt oddly self-conscious in the soft jersey they practised in, his sleeves pushed above his elbows- and she certainly couldn't keep her eyes off them. "Anne? Do you need me?"

Anne chuckled, her cheeks still hot. "Yes. I- left my key on the bench this morning," she said in apology. "Mrs Whitley isn't at home, so I stowed our groceries behind the house- they should be safe until I can get back there. May I have yours?"

He grinned and began moving away immediately. "Of course. I'll be back in a moment." He saw the team coming around the bend and called back- "And don't let the fellows bother you. They're mostly harmless."

Anne hadn't seen the boys approach as she watched Gilbert go, and she turned to find them uncomfortably close, with big grins on their sweaty faces. She stepped back in shock, until Timothy pushed his way through, causing her to relax slightly.

"Mrs Anne Blythe! Always a pleasure to see you on our turf. They reinstated Gil today, you know. You're married to the captain again."

Anne blinked. "They did? Gilbert wasn't expecting them to do that. And you aren't sorry yourself?"

Timothy grinned. "Not a bit. Now it's not me who is responsible for these clowns. He can have it. Anne, do you know everyone here?"

She looked around at the ten or so faces surrounding her, wishing Phil was here to draw some attention away. "I don't believe so."

"Oh, you'll know the Juniors, at least. Simon and Andrew, history buffs, of course. You know Arthur and Francis from your own faculty- and the rest are scattered throughout the rest of Redmond. Bill is from the medical program, but he's only in his first year. He doesn't know much yet."

Anne nodded kindly, trying to keep the wariness from her eyes. Several fellows from the back moved forward then, causing her to step back again. She gave them a measured look, recognizing some of the men she had seen talking to Claire Hallett over recent weeks.

"Anne, is it?" one of the bolder young men asked.

She raised delicate eyebrows at his impertinence. Timothy, she knew and trusted- the others were a different kettle of fish.

"Surely you won't mind if we call you by your name as well- Mrs is such a _new_ title for you, after all," his friend added slyly.

Anne drew herself up, her eyes glittering with fire. Timothy was quick to shove the fellow back, muttering at him to mind his tongue. He turned to Anne then to distract her. "Now, is Gilbert fetching something for you?"

She forced a smile. "Yes. I left my keys at home this morning."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence until they saw Gilbert approaching, and he came up to the group at a jog.

"Don't you have something better to do?" he asked the small crowd, and a few fellows reluctantly turned away. He turned back to Anne with a grin, not seeing the identical smirks on many of the boy's faces. Anne, however, _did_ see them.

"I also wanted to let you know that I am heading to the library later this afternoon. The city library."

Gilbert nodded, wishing that the others would leave them- Anne was certainly uncomfortable about something. "Good. Are you able to search for a book for me?"

She nodded, and pulled a pen and notebook from her satchel, waiting under the watchful gaze of the team as he wrote down the title. "I'll be home later, Gilbert."

He stood upright again and forced a smile for propriety's sake. Feeling the multiple eyes on the back of his head, he nodded briskly. "I'll see you at home, sweetheart." He bent his head, intending to give her a swift kiss on the cheek, only to have her step away before he could touch her, her face pale as the team stared in fascination.

"I don't really think that's necessary, is it?" she said stiffly. She saw the flash of hurt in Gilbert's eyes as the shock rippled through the remaining men, and turned away sharply, writhing internally at the sound of raucous laughter breaking out behind her. She walked down the path she had come swiftly, cringing as he heard Gilbert bark sharply at the team to get back to their training. Furious tears began to fall at her own foolishness, and she broke into a run, still feeling the burn of Gilbert's disappointed gaze as she moved away from him.

* * *

It was nearing five in the afternoon when Anne came walking up the path to her home, her books weighing heavily in her hands. She stopped in astonishment at the sight before her. Gilbert stood in his shirtsleeves wrestling their door upright, surrounded by wood shavings and the tools he had thrown down. She walked through the gate hesitantly and placed her books on the step.

"Do you need my help?"

He didn't look at her immediately. "If you'd get on the other side to steady it. I need to slide it over the pins."

Anne moved quickly, her hands holding it steady as he strained to lift it higher. "I thought you weren't going to do this until the spring."

"Well, plans change." This was all he said until the door was upright, and he pulled it closed with a sigh of relief- and no screech. He moved back to the veranda to clean up, and Anne stood by foolishly, not knowing what to do. "It's cold out here. You might head inside and start the fire."

Internally Anne bristled at Gilbert's evident dismissal, however she supposed that she deserved it this time. The door closed behind her, and she shut her eyes briefly. Diana's teasing face suddenly popped into her mind, as she recalled a discussion from December.

"But it's so easy to manage them, dear. If Fred is ever angry at me, I simply throw my arms around him and tell him he's wonderful. It's not failed me yet."

Anne scowled as she knelt by the fireplace tossing kindling over the small flame. Gilbert would never be so easy to manipulate- she wouldn't respect him if he _was_. No, there was only one way through this mess now.

He came inside then, going to the pump to wash his hands. Anne looked across and cringed as he picked up the green cloth to dry them- on the tea towel again. In vain, last week she had shown him the difference between them- _jade_ green for the tea towel, _forest_ green for the hand towel. He'd just grinned and commented flippantly that green was green; if it mattered to her which was which, he would have to write on them. She'd rolled her eyes then- but reminding him right now wouldn't do them any favours.

"So do we talk about what happened today?"

Anne turned to see Gilbert leaning against the bench, his arms folded.

She swallowed. "I'm sorry, Gil."

"Why would you react to me that way? And in _public_ , no less?"

The look of hurt on his face made her feel wretched, and her voice faltered. "Gilbert, they were watching us."

" _So_?"

When Anne appeared to be choked by her indignation, Gilbert exhaled, frustrated. "Anne, do you have any idea who the biggest gossips in the college are? Here's a hint- it's not Claire Hallett and her cronies. You just exposed us in front of them."

Her face paled, and she licked suddenly dry lips. "You can't tell me that your teammates are worse than a bunch of women."

"Where do you think those women get their information?" Gilbert asked grimly. "We have worked _so_ hard to maintain the image that we were just impulsive all those months ago- and now they're back to asking me what's really going on with us. Was that what you wanted?"

Anne turned on him furiously. "You _know_ it wasn't! They were standing all around staring at us, wanting to find out the latest gossip-"

"And thanks to you, they now have it," Gilbert said quietly. "We talked about this- we talked about the need to maintain appearances. Now I'm being asked if you were forced to marry me. If we even share a room, since you seem to dislike me so much."

Anne was almost speechless in shock. "From- from this afternoon?"

He folded his arms again, his voice remarkably even. "Anne, there's been gossip about us all along. You _know_ that. We only barely got through that wretched newspaper debacle."

Anne was silent for long moments. "I embarrassed you, didn't I?"

He shrugged, his smile bitter. "Well, as a fellow there's nothing like being asked about how things are in the bedroom lately - and brushing off their comments only to have them see that your wife really doesn't want you to touch her."

Something about the blunt way he spoke cut Anne to the heart, and she flinched. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "I'm sorry," she spoke, her voice low. "I- I didn't think."

He got up then, his manner defeated. "Forget it- it'll pass. Look, may I have the bedroom for a while? I need a bath."

Anne nodded, her face pale. She moved to the stove to begin heating the water, and heard him moving things around in the bedroom. Out of sight of the room, she slumped down against the wall, hot tears sliding down her cheeks. In all this time, he'd not asked for much from her- and she had let him down in front of others. Her own sense of injury smarted, angry at the two of them for having to do what they were not ready for- and furious at herself for making such a big deal about it. How could she be expected to act normally when others were always watching?

The water came to a boil faster than she was ready for, and she clenched her fists, not wanting to call Gilbert. For a brief moment, Anne wanted to scream- there was really nowhere to hide in the Mushroom- no way to avoid each other completely. She didn't want to look at him and see her own failure- to see that she had disappointed him. Before she could talk herself out of it, she heard the kettle begin to whistle, and whisked herself outside before he entered the kitchen. She closed the newly silent door behind her and sat down on the step, her pride smarting unbearably. She watched the line of birds circling the nearby park as the sun began to set, and suddenly came out in a gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

Well, what was she supposed to do _now_? She could hear him pumping more water in the kitchen, so he had obviously taken the pots off the stove- and now she was stuck outside sulking. Internally, she writhed. She could have been the bigger person and stayed, but _no_ , she had to run away just like when they were children.

She would apologise- she'd had enough experience doing so. She shouldn't have stepped away before the others, she should have behaved normally- after all, he'd kissed her quite a few times since they had been married- and if she was to be completely honest, she had liked it. It was nothing to be afraid of.

Not that she _was_ afraid.

Of course, the uneasiness inside told her that she _was_ \- and she didn't want to explore that at all.

When twenty long minutes had gone by, she gritted her teeth and got to her feet, shivering in the cold. She walked back into the house to find the bedroom door still shut, and she stood before it, radiating with tension.

"Gil?"

His gruff voice came back, through the door. "Yes?"

"I'm really sorry." There was a silence then, and she heard him sigh. "It was wrong of me to embarrass you in front of your friends."

Again, he was quiet for a time. "Alright."

Anne turned, sitting down against the door silently, simply waiting for him to respond.

"Does it frighten you when I touch you?"

She froze at his disembodied voice, wondering if this conversation was only possible with a door between them.

"No…"

There was silence for a moment. "You know, I'd prefer it if you sounded a little more sure about that."

Anne folded her arms, her eyes stormy. "Then I don't know how to answer you."

" _Try_."

Anne groaned, her head falling onto her knees. "Gil, I _am_ trying here. But it's _private_."

"Anne, how are we meant to make this work if you won't talk to me about it?" his annoyed voice came, and she glared at the door.

"It makes me uncomfortable when others are observing us- I meant that what we do together is something private between _us_."

"Say that again?"

Anne huffed. "I mean that you touching me- or- or _me_ t-" she froze, wanting to bit her tongue off at her unintended slip- and to pause to shake from her mind the image of her touching him. "Whatever we do together is _private_."

There was a heavy sigh, and she could almost see him rolling his eyes.

"Anne, I _get_ that. But we've done nothing publicly to be worried about- especially not for a married couple."

She thumped her small fist against the wooden floor, her look stormy. "Look, I _know_ that, Gil. I know how bad it looked."

There was silence for a time, and she dully thought it odd that she could hear no splashing. His voice was almost sharp then.

"I need to know why you looked so frightened of me today. Have you felt like that before?"

"Why is it important?" He did not answer her this time, and Anne sighed, the defeat filling her voice. "It's- we don't kiss each other all the time."

"That's because we agreed that when it was just _us_ , we wouldn't move things faster until we were ready."

Unseen by her husband, Anne groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Being one thing here, and another out there- don't you find this confusing?"

There was a sudden chuckle that made her question his sanity for a moment. "You want to know if I'm confused?" he called out, belligerently. "I'm your _husband_. I share a bedroom with you- quite happily, by the way. I'm closer to you than I've ever been. You want us to take our time with everything else- and I agree with you. But out there you're holding back the way you used to with me, _and_ we still have an image to protect- but I can't rush you, or pressure you, and I can't let myself get too close to you, either."

A shard of hurt went through Anne then, and she choked. "Why not?" she couldn't seem to keep herself from saying.

"Because then I'll want to be _way_ too close to you! _And we can't finish college if we do that!_ "

She got to her feet as his frustrated voice rose, tired of talking through a closed door. Her eyes were tightly screwed shut, and she ignored the yelp of surprise from her husband as she opened the door with a shove.

"And how are we meant to make sense of all of that?" she said furiously, clapping her hand over her eyes. "I don't know what to _do_ out there."

"Well, you aren't the only one!"

Anne stormed her foot in frustration, blindly turning toward his voice. "Then what was I supposed to do? Did you want me to throw myself into your arms in front of the other men?"

Gilbert exhaled. " _No_. But it wasn't like I could warn you; ' _hey, Anne, I'm about to kiss you, please don't duck,_ '- and you _didn't_ have to react to a small kiss from your husband by stepping away in horror," he said angrily. "We've done it often enough in past months- even in front of my _parents_ , and you've _never_ done that. It was utterly humiliating."

"I didn't mean to _do_ that to you!"

"You didn't see your face! And then to tell me off for it in front of them."

"And it was wrong of me!" she shot back, before she sighed, slumping back against the wall. "Gilbert, this doesn't come naturally to me," she mumbled. She heard a groan and the creak of his bed, and assumed he must have sat down.

"Anne, nothing about this is natural," Gilbert said, exhausted. "Nothing that happens outside these doors, anyway."

Anne fumbled her way to the floor then, feeling around her skirt to make sure she was tucked in. She frowned, her eyes still resolutely shut. "I don't understand."

"Anne, open your eyes, you goose."

She hesitated, only to get hit by a soft pair of woolen socks. She spluttered in indignation, opening her eyes to see Gilbert lounging on his bed, fully dressed. "You couldn't have told me that you had your clothes on?"

"You never gave me a chance," he retorted calmly, raising his hand to comb through his damp curls neatly. "You were too busy yelling."

Anne tossed the socks back with a scowl, her eyes softening slightly at his casually unbuttoned cuffs and collar, and the suspenders that for some reason made her want to smile.

"By the way, you know apologies are usually not shouted, right?"

" _Oh_!" Anne bounded to her feet and stalked to his bedside, raising both hands to mess up his wet hair despite laughing protests. "I would be better at apologising if you weren't acting like such a child!"

He grabbed her wrists, pulling her down to sit beside him, still chuckling. When they were still, he released her gently. "I'm sorry."

Anne scowled, twisting her braid over her shoulder. "No, it was me, this time. I reacted badly. I thought you were just showing off for them."

He sighed, falling backwards on the bed. "Oh, maybe I was, a bit," he said dully. "They used to make snide comments about the fact that I was everlastingly single- and then one day, I turn up married, with no explanation. The circumstances are suspicious enough without our behaviour confirming the 'desperately in love' story."

He looked up at her, startled to see a thoughtful look cross her face. He raised one eyebrow at her in question. "We can fix this, you know," she said candidly, a slight smile on her face.

Gilbert rose up on an elbow beside her, curious.

"Oh?"

"Of course. After all, women are supposedly changeable, aren't they?"

"The brilliance of your plan is still escaping me-"

Anne elbowed him. "If they ask again, you tell them that we had a fight- I was being redheaded about something- although I do trust you to not make fun of my hair to others-"

"Naturally-" he said dryly.

"And then I apologised and we made up tonight."

He sat up, amused. "So we're telling the truth, then?"

To his surprise, she sobered. "I suppose that is the reality, isn't it? We fight like any other married couple, and have to make it right."

"Just like we promised."

There was a lengthy silence, and Anne idly noticed that the room they now sat in was growing dark. "Things don't feel false in this house," she admitted suddenly.

Gilbert nudged her, his lips quirking up. "It's not. It's out there in the Redmond jungle we have to worry."

He looked over to see that she was chewing her lower lip, her eyes troubled. "I'm not afraid," she stated, her voice so quiet that he had to move closer to hear her. "Not exactly."

He shook his head, slipping off the bed to kneel in front of her, his hazel eyes troubled. "Again, you're sounding nowhere near sure enough for me. If you don't want me to-"

She refused to met his eyes then, however even in the dimness, he could see that her cheeks were reddening. She tucked a red curl behind her ear nervously. "Gil, please be quiet for a moment- this is hard to articulate." He sat back on his heels, and cocked an eyebrow at her as he waited. "I'm not afraid of what we've done- and while I doubt that your ego needs stroking, I- I liked it."

Gilbert's face flushed, and he watched her for a moment in confusion. "Then- I'm afraid that I don't understand."

Anne sighed, frustrated at her inability to explain herself properly. She closed her eyes, trying to marshal the thoughts swirling in her mind. "When we- when you and I kiss, or you touch me, it feels as if there is something under it- something deeper." She lifted her head, and hoped that the dimness hid the flush on her cheeks. "Did you ever go swimming in the ocean?"

Gilbert blinked. "Had enough of this subject then? Of course, I did- I was raised less than a mile from the ocean."

Her eyes were on his, pleading. "Well- were you ever standing in the sea and had the waves nudge you- but you didn't realise that the water was suddenly so much deeper, just inches from where you stood?" She saw him nod, and continued. "I did, once. The waves pulled me, and I found myself out of my depth, and not at all sure I could find my way back again. This- _we_ \- sometimes feel like that. I think I know where my feet are, and I have something to stand on- but sometimes you kiss me, and it feels like it's bigger- it's deeper than I think it is- and I _do_ get afraid at that. It feels like a pulling- and I- I don't know how to begin to process that, especially when others are watching. Don't you feel that?"

Gilbert's eyes softened as he began to understand, and he cupped her face in his hands. "Of course, I do, sweetheart. But don't you think that should be there?" At her confusion, he sighed. "Anne, we started out as friends- _best_ friends- who ended up in- well, let's face it, a marriage of convenience. But we never wanted to settle for just that, did we?"

She shook her head, her eyes troubled.

"That means we need whatever depth is down there." He stroked her cheek, a slight smile on his lean face. "Of course I feel it- I'd be terrified if I didn't. But maybe whatever lies underneath just isn't meant for now. You're jumping ahead too far."

A spark was in her eye then, and she glared at him. "I am trying _not_ to."

He chuckled, and dropped his hands. "I know that. But perhaps it's enough to know that more is there- when we're ready to explore it together."

"So I need to stay terrified?"

He shook his head, his look tender. "We need to know that there's chemistry between us. I want you to have romance, and passion and adventure- I need those things too. You can't have them later on, without- without _this_ , between us."

Anne scowled at him then. "So- you appear to have talked yourself around to being alright with the fact that I'm sometimes afraid when you kiss me."

"I did not!" Gilbert frowned comically, pleased to see her laugh, too. "It's just- I'm glad there's more. I don't want you to be scared of it any longer, though." He stroked the hair back from her forehead then, and gave her a quizzical smile. "We know it's there. But if you don't want me to do something, then I need you to tell me."

Anne looked into the hazel eyes that watched her so earnestly, and she nodded. At that, he stood up to pull her to her feet, and after a brief hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. She relaxed into him, and sighed.

"Gil? Can you forgive me for how I behaved, today?"

His smile was real, then as he held her. "'Course. And I promise that I won't surprise you like that again."

She shrugged as she pulled away, her cheeks red. "No, you were right. We'll never convince them if we don't change things. I'll just be ready next time. Speaking of the time- it's getting rather late. I'll go and get the supper started."

Gilbert watched her go, a disbelieving smile spreading across his handsome face. The other fellow's opinions couldn't really bother him, he finally realised. Not while she was living in the house with him: fighting with him, making up, and moving ahead, little by little.

Next time he'd just tell them to go jump off a bridge.

* * *

Two days later, the afternoon sunshine bore down on the Redmond courtyard, the air crisp and clear. Gilbert stood talking with the bulk of the football team, needing to organize practices leading up to their next game. Anne stood off to one side with Stella, her stomach in sudden knots of tension.

"Do you really need to warn him that we're coming for tea this afternoon?"

"Would you surprise a man with three extra females in a house as small as our Mushroom? I should at least warn him." Anne asked quietly, and Stella snorted with laughter.

"I suppose so."

Gilbert looked up then, his expression changing as soon as he spotted her. Anne reflected with a blush that she was probably the only one who could tell that he was rattled at seeing her, as he nodded at the team coolly. "Boys, I'll be back in a moment."

He walked toward his wife with a smile for Stella, and he reached out to clasp Anne's hand. "Did you need me?" he asked again.

Stella stepped away for a moment, and Anne cringed at the evident looks of interest in their direction. She shook her head and turned back to Gilbert with a hesitant smile. "The girls are going to come to the house for afternoon tea today- we plan to work on our essays for Philosophy together. We're going home via the bakery now and Jo will come to pick up the girls in the evening."

Gilbert grinned. "I might join you, if you all don't mind. I have an essay due on Friday."

Anne nodded, and there was a shy twinkle in her eye as she stepped closer to him, her hand still in his. "I suppose I should warn you not to duck, now," she whispered, and raised herself slightly to give her tall husband a chaste kiss on the lips, much to the amusement of those standing near the couple.

Gilbert had to choke down his laughter at her pink cheeks. "When you decide to make amends, you go all the way, don't you?" he muttered cheekily. "Thank you." He was unable to keep his chest from expanding with pride at her presence, even as he grinned. "Anne, you realise they all think that you're wrapped around my little finger, now."

Anne's smile was wicked. "Oh, Gilbert. I think they all know that you are the one wrapped around _mine_."

As she moved away with Stella, he couldn't shake the dreamy grin from his face. "You have no idea, sweetheart," he murmured, watching her slim figure walk down the pathway.


	18. Chapter 18, Past, Present and Future

**Chapter 18**

In early March, Gilbert's parents came for their promised visit. Anne asked their landlady to recommend a boardinghouse for the older couple, only to have her insist that she could accommodate the pair easily. Gilbert picked them up from the station on Friday afternoon, and Anne was there to greet them with a shy look on her face as she ushered them into their son's home. Amelia burst into tears as soon as she crossed the threshold of the cottage, pulling them both into a tight hug. There were several moments of incoherent babble- _my darlings, oh, that ceiling! Are you getting enough sleep_ , _oh, I do love seeing you with a cat!_ and _Shouldn't you have a sweater on, dear?_ \- before Anne and Gilbert convinced them to sit down. John had a grin on his face the entire time, in wonder at finally being in Kingsport, and in his grown son's home.

It had not taken long to show the older couple around the small house, and with some trepidation Anne had shown them the bedroom, only to find them reassuringly matter-of-fact about it. One of Rachel's quilts was displayed on the wall, carefully tacked up to bring some colour and lightness to the brown room. Others were placed on the neatly made beds, and a small vase of snowdrops sat on the chest of drawers, making the room smell sweet.

Amelia was found in the laundry with Anne on Saturday morning, scrubbing and talking with Mrs Whitley about the challenge of washing in the winter. She hustled Anne from the kitchen as soon as they returned, saying that Anne wasn't to worry a mite about the baking- and Anne found herself at her desk with a fresh cup of tea and a plate of cookies to work with. Rusty, to Anne's surprise, took at once to Gilbert's parents- although he still walked past Gilbert with evident disdain.

Gilbert's father pronounced the Mushroom to be in satisfactory condition, however, he was adamant that the chimney must not have been cleaned properly in years- and so he spent Saturday afternoon on the roof cleaning and repairing it. Whatever Mrs Whitley might have thought about this, within a short time she was being served tea in the cottage and thanked profusely for her goodness to the children. Mrs Whitley thawed remarkably with this attention, and privately, Anne hid a little smile- she had a feeling that the Blythe charm worked on everyone.

Gilbert came from the bedroom with his books under one arm, pulling the table over to where Anne's desk sat.

"I'm sorry, they've somewhat taken over everything," Gilbert asked awkwardly.

She chuckled, then. "You forget that we spent a lot of time in your kitchen while we were teaching- I know how your parents work." Anne watched Mrs Blythe take the tea towel from some bread she had been proving in the kitchen, and smiled. "It's her way of loving you."

" _Us_." Anne looked up from her page, curiously. Gilbert reached across the two desks to grasp her hand. "It's their way of loving _us_. My mother always wanted a daughter."

Anne shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not hers, Gil."

"She sees you like that," he said firmly. "You'll see. You should have heard her lecture me about how I needed to treat you after we told them everything."

Anne blanched at that. " _Me_? You treated me very well."

He leant back, grinning. "She'll be thrilled to know that. To be fair, there was a substantial lecture in there about the impropriety of taking off my shirt in front of you. Of course, by that point we'd already married for two weeks- so it was a bit of a moot point."

Anne shrugged, not looking up from her work. "And I had seen it before- although you certainly didn't look like _that_ back then." Gilbert looked up in shock to see Anne's face pale, and she began to stumble over her words in embarrassment. "I mean with your football training, I suppose- no, I- I mean that you were smaller then- not in a bad way, but your arms weren't as big- you just- _Gilbert, stop laughing_!"

As she got up to leave in embarrassment, he grabbed her hands, a big smile on his face. "Anne," he said softly. "We grew up together. You think I didn't notice you as well?" Anne's jaw dropped as her face flushed. Gilbert bent down to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I was just surprised. And I'm hoping that you don't mean that I look _worse_."

Anne folded her arms, her eyebrows flying up in gentle mockery. "Now, that sounds like someone fishing for a compliment. Does your ego need stroking?"

Gilbert hesitated, a wry smile on his face. "I think you'll find that you've been the antidote to my ego since I was fourteen years old."

"It _was_ you who started our relationship by tormenting me about my looks." Anne saw his face fall, and she swallowed hard. She leant forward, her hand on his arm in apology. "I'm sorry- I shouldn't tease. That was a long time ago."

Gilbert sat back again with a sigh, pulling his books toward him. He picked up his pencil and adjusted his page, his eyes studiously down. "Anne, I think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever known. I've thought that for years. And I was an idiot to tease you back then."

Anne settled as well, her cheeks still pink. "I told Di that I thought you were handsome that day."

Gilbert looked up in shock. "Really?"

"Yes. Oh, not after you called me Carrots," she said dryly. "By then I was too angry to see you clearly." She was silent for a moment before she cleared her throat. "I like the way you look."

Gilbert's smile grew. "Thank you. So bigger isn't a bad thing, then?"

To his delight, her cheeks were glowing, and she refused to look up from her page. He had to lean in to hear her mumbled words. "I- like your arms."

It was clear to Gilbert that she felt the conversation was done at this juncture, and he attempted to turn his focus on his own work, a wide grin on his face. He didn't know how she did it- but Anne seemed to find a new way to surprise him every day.

* * *

On Sunday the Blythes attended church with Anne and Gilbert, followed by dinner at Patty's Place. The girls took great delight in meeting Gilbert's parents and laughed until they cried at stories of Gilbert as a child. When the meal was done, Aunt Jimsie shooed the young people off to play a game- no doubt enjoying the opportunity to have a conversation with her peers. Jo and Gilbert were arguing theology in the armchairs by the fire, and Anne shook her head with a smile when asked to join in the board game. Instead, she wandered outside to the dearly missed orchard, needing some time to think.

The visit had been wonderful- although it had been a little overwhelming, in some respects.

The previous afternoon Mrs Blythe had insisted instead that Anne take a long, hot bath to relax while she prepared supper, and Gilbert took his father for a walk through Old St Johns. Amelia sat with her before the fire while Anne brushed her hair out afterwards, catching her up-to-date on the news from Avonlea and introducing her to all manner of Blythe and Fletcher relatives that Anne would one day meet.

While Gilbert had escorted his parents back to the boardinghouse later, she had pulled a sheaf of notes from her basket and eventually moved to the sofa in front of the fire. She sank into the cushions, her eyes troubled.

It had started as an idea- she would attempt to write what she had never spoken about. She would show it to no one. In doing so, she would most likely purge herself of unwanted memories- one day she might feel quite kindly to the Hopetoun Asylum. After all, hadn't resiliency and imagination saved her there? Perhaps she had learned to overcome in that place- perhaps it had made her work harder for her future. And yet, as Anne sat in the chair with her attempts at writing the ineffable, the time spent with Gilbert's family pierced a shard through her heart. Never had the memories seemed so bleak, never had they seemed as hurtful as when placed beside the warmth of Gilbert's parents, the stories of his seemingly cloudless childhood. She knew better, of course- the tiny, stillborn brother and sister that Gilbert had never known, the long exile without wife and mother in Alberta while doctors battled for John Blythe's life. They had almost lost the farm twice: once, while Anne and Gilbert were still in school together.

In vain she tried to tell herself that it didn't matter. He and his family were safe now. She was fine as well- she knew that her parents had loved her. Two families that had not been her own had kept her alive. She had lived through the asylum, and when she was eleven she found her way to Marilla and Matthew, who had made up for everything she had lacked. She didn't dwell on her past- there was no need. She was loved, and her future was with her best friend.

Anne lifted her feet onto the sofa, wrapping her arms around her knees as if cold. The papers crinkled between the layers of her skirt, and she shivered slightly. She had barely had time to write between assignments and classwork- and yet the pages she had done sat in her subconscious like a bruise under the skin. Gilbert had been as good as his word- he hadn't asked, hadn't pried- and yet there was something confused inside that wanted to offer it to him. It was easy to brush this impulse aside, of course, it wasn't finished- and he would know as soon as he read it that it was her.

He would _know_.

When Gilbert came back into the house that night, he found Anne sitting before the fire, several pages crumpled in her hand. He frowned slightly. Had she been quieter than usual that night? He moved to put the kettle on the stove and came to sit beside her.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

Anne seemed to come back from somewhere and tried to smile. "May I ask you something?"

"Am I _going_ to say no?"

She chuckled, however, the distant look in her eyes was swift to return. "Do you ever think about your time in Alberta?"

Gilbert stilled, turning his body to face her. "Not often. Why?"

She shrugged, her lashes down. "I suppose I just wondered if you did."

There was a pause, and he studied her carefully. "If it comes to mind. To be honest, I'd rather not remember it."

There was a shadowed look on Anne's face then. "Really?"

Gilbert could feel the conversation rapidly shifting, and frowned, trying to understand why she was talking about this. "Anne, Dad's fine. He told me that he's had more energy over the last few years- he's even prepared the lower field for planting this year. You'll remember; we used to lie in the tall grass, pretending we were invisible to the outside world."

She smiled. "I remember."

Gilbert nodded, his voice soft. "He's fine, Anne. They're all fine."

She only nodded. Gilbert pulled her into his arms then, holding her tightly for a while. "Sweetheart? Do you need to talk?"

He felt her shake her head against him, and yet she put her arms around his waist, cuddling into his side. So they stayed for long minutes, hearing only the crackling of the fire, and the quiet breaths of the other. If Gilbert felt the hot tears seeping into his shirt he did not acknowledge them. In this rare moment of vulnerability, he could only pray that holding her would be enough.

* * *

After a busy weekend, Anne and Gilbert saw the Blythes off at the train station early on Monday morning. Amelia clucked over the pair anxiously, and Anne couldn't help but laugh at the way she fussed over a fully-grown Gilbert. She herself was exhorted to take good care of herself before John gave her a hasty hug and turned to pull his wife from Gilbert's side.

"Come on, love, before the train leaves without us," he said easily and grinned at the pair. "Look after each other now; we'll see you in just a few months. Let me know how that chimney goes, Gil."

The goodbyes were said, tearfully from Gilbert's mother, and soon the train was moving, leaving Anne and Gilbert on the platform together, each drawing in a deep breath.

"So that's what happens when my parents come to Kingsport!" Gilbert said comically. "Do you think they sat down at all?"

Anne smiled, turning them toward the exit. "I think they have more energy than we do, Gil. Speaking of which, we'd better head home to have our breakfast- we need to be at college in two hours."

As they walked out into the early sunshine and through the park toward their home, Gilbert turned to her. "Do you suppose that we'll be like them one day?" he asked suddenly. "Descending on our children, taking over the cooking and fixing things?"

Anne's auburn eyebrows flew up, her eyes sparkling. "We'll have to wait and see, I suppose. I can cook, of course- we'll just have to see if the scholar still remembers how to use his hammer."

Luckily, the park was empty- had anyone been present, they would have seen Gilbert chasing his red-headed wife through the trees, catching her in his arms in a swirl of skirts, and pausing to steal a soft kiss from her laughing mouth.

* * *

Anne's birthday came on a Saturday that tried hard to be springlike- so much so, that Gilbert found a small patch of crocuses behind the cottage. He placed a flower in a glass to put on their breakfast table, having gotten up early to cook the pancakes unaided. Anne was quick to praise him for his work, choosing to not comment on the stack that was slightly burnt on his own plate.

Gilbert sat down across from her, with a satisfied look on his face. He slid a small package across to her.

"Happy birthday, Anne-girl."

Anne pushed a red curl off her forehead as she reached for the present shyly. In the box was a fine gold chain, with a pink enamel heart as a pendant. To his pleasure, she began to laugh immediately. "Gilbert, where on earth did you find this?"

He grinned at her. "A few months ago, in a jewellery shop downtown. I rather liked the reminder of our humble beginnings."

Anne smiled at the memory of the candy heart she had once crushed beneath her heel. She narrowed her eyes at him teasingly. "Only you would remind your wife on her birthday that you once called her _Carrots_."

"I call you Carrots all the time," Gilbert said breezily, and then gave her a loving smile. "I know that you don't usually wear pink, but I hope you won't mind this one."

Anne stood up and walked around the table, handing him the necklace. "Would you put it on for me?"

He stood up, flushing as he fought to do up the small clasp, the rosy smell of her red curls intoxicating. When it was done, he stood still as she turned, giving him a shy look, and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. I love it, Gil."

For this day, Gilbert had decreed that no textbooks should be opened, and instead they spent the forenoon walking through the markets in the centre of the city. Gilbert kept a firm hold of his wife's hand as they wound their way through the crowds and food stalls set up around the streets, browsing through curios and fabrics, and adding a few books to their growing collection.

In the afternoon Gilbert took Anne out on a leisurely picnic at the Arm, finding more early flowers there much to Anne's delight. They lay in the sunshine drawing pictures in the clouds together, indulging in the odd squabble, and enjoying the outside world again. The trees were beginning to come into leaf again, and Gilbert spotted cherry trees by the shore ready to blossom. Anne declared it to be one of the nicest days they had spent in Kingsport, with a walk home via Spofford Avenue to collect the girls for the evening.

Phil and the girls brought a cake that they had made together, proudly iced by Phil herself. Aunt Jimsie sent her love, now laid up with a sore ankle, and the girls settled in for a pleasant evening around the fireplace. Jonas was to come after some parish duties had been discharged, and in the meantime, Anne was curious to sense an odd tension in the room that did not break until Gilbert had left the room to fetch more kindling.

"Quick, honey, while he's gone!"

Anne blinked in shock at the present thrown into her lap that seemed to come from nowhere. "I need to open this _now_?"

"Unless you want to open it in front of Gilbert, yes!" Stella hissed.

With shaking hands Anne undid the pink ribbon and drew out a nightgown that made her gasp. The fabric was some of the finest muslin she had ever seen, a soft white that was embroidered and pin-tucked with delicate lace on the low, rounded neckline.

It was also completely transparent.

Phil's hands rose in placation at Anne's huge grey eyes. "I know, honey, it's not for right now, but we just thought that a little forethought wouldn't hurt- and as Jo might say, neither of you will know exactly the hour that the- er- _bridegroom_ may visit…"

Here, Anne choked in mortification, making Priscilla clutch her side in a fit of laughter. "Phil, must you be so literal in your scripture interpretation?" she gasped, while Anne tried to swallow.

"You mean this to be for this for our- our-"

"Wedding night, sweetie," Phil stated, her brown eyes twinkling. "I've seen all of your nightgowns, and I thought it was time for something a little frivolous for the first one of us to be married. And you have to admit that it's quite the prettiest thing you've ever seen- it's sure to be the best thing _he's_ ever seen, too."

For a moment Anne froze, her mind awhirl with pictures she would have sworn she had never imagined before. Her pale face flushed as she pulled herself back to reality, suddenly aware that the girls were watching her with identical smug looks on their faces. "It is lovely," she managed with a little chuckle, holding the white gown before her reverently. "Although it certainly-"

At this juncture, the four girls jumped as they heard a loud laugh just outside the door, and it opened as Gilbert entered with an armful of wood trailed by Jo, whose green eyes brightened at once at the sight of Phil. Gilbert immediately registered the silence of the room and turned to the girls slowly. "Er- is everything alright?"

"Fine," Phil said innocently, darting a sheepish look at Jo. "Stella?"

Stella's look was cherubic. "Oh, I'm fine." A small gurgle came from Priscilla, and she wiped a tear of laughter from her blue eyes. "Prissy's fine, too. Anne?"

Anne felt all eyes turn to her and cursed herself for not being better at pretending that everything was normal. She hid the nightgown behind her, and tried to smile at her distinctively suspicious husband. "It's just a present," she said feebly. "One- one that you can't see."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose, and he met the eyes of his guilty-looking wife. She shook her head behind the girls pleadingly, and he suppressed a little smile. "Alright, then. Well, Jo has arrived, ladies- is it time for that cake yet?"

Anne reflected later that the evening was delightful. Moody and Charlie both stopped in later after a committee meeting, and the Mushroom was filled with plentiful laughter and good conversation. Charlie, even, was almost human as he reddened at Gilbert's teasing- he'd been seen having tea with a certain young lady by the name of Constance- and by the look on his face had thoroughly enjoyed it.

Later that night, while Gilbert put the house back into order again Anne stood in their bedroom dressed for bed with the new nightgown before her. She sighed, her finger tracing the pretty ruffles on the sleeves. Her cheeks were a brilliant red as she wrapped it carefully in tissue paper, placing it carefully under her undergarments in the drawer. As she climbed into bed, she pulled her knees up to her chest, the covers wrapped around her tightly. Knowing that Gilbert would bring the lamp into the room, she blew out her own, and sat in the darkness thinking.

Diana had a range of nightwear carefully sewn already- she and Anne had had a giggle over it last summer, the fine muslin that would display every curve in the slightest light. Of course, Mrs Barry had sniffed at the light fabric Aunt Josephine had bought for her daughter; however, she had provided patterns and conceded that they were very nicely done- although she did tell her that it wasn't a good idea to make the _lingerie_ so early. Diana had asked her mother _why_ with a convincingly innocent look- and laughed herself silly after her mother stalked out of the room without being able to give her a good answer.

Anne worried her lip in the darkness. She had, of course, had no reason for such sewing- as far as a trousseau was concerned, she had gone into their marriage with only her everyday clothes. Was Gilbert sorry about that? She rolled her eyes at herself then. Was she really asking herself what he thought of her clothing again? When had _that_ happened?

They had been married for four months now. Anne had thought it through carefully- she couldn't say that she was in love- but somehow everything had revolved to where Gilbert's opinion had become the one that mattered the most. That was marriage, she supposed. The thought of the gossamer-fine nightgown made heat flood her body. She didn't want to think about that yet- what he would think of _her_. It was strange, though- five months ago she could not have conceived of ever opening herself up to Gilbert in that manner- and yet the thought of _one day_ no longer exactly terrified her. Not that she was ready for that, she thought in some confusion- not now, not yet. And yet perhaps Jo was correct in saying that love could be chosen. She couldn't have suspected that there was more to the man she had married than the friend he had been to her so many months ago- more to the Gilbert she had known in their schooldays, in AVIS days, even in their early years of college. And yet there was. Was he finding that out about her as well?

She pulled her red hair over her shoulder, carefully braiding it into one plait and smiling as she overheard Gilbert talking to Rusty in the kitchen. The two of them would like each other one day, perhaps.

Anne suddenly frowned, leaning over the side of her bed to pull her old journal from the pile of books there. She didn't write in it much, anymore- she was not yet aware that she tended to think out loud to Gilbert instead. And any thoughts that needed to be kept private from Gilbert were- well, usually about Gilbert himself. Now, however, she turned to the beginning of the book, pulling out a pink piece of paper bearing the stamp of Rollings Reliable on it. Anne made a face, remembering the shame and humiliation she had felt back then. She had always planned to spend it usefully on clothes- and expected to hate them bitterly when she put them on.

However, so much had changed- and it was Gilbert who insisted that she shouldn't be ashamed of it. And he was right- some had teased, however, most students had merely congratulated her on her win- and one sheepish senior told her that he had once written a story to advertise Ivory Soap. Back then, Gilbert had stood by her side manfully, averring that he couldn't do better- and that she should use the money proudly.

He knocked on the door then and came into the room with a little smile. "All ready for bed?"

She nodded, and he set the lamp on the table by his own. He raised an eyebrow when she held out the piece of paper to him, and at a glance, he began to laugh. "You never cashed this, Anne?"

She gave him an apologetic look. "I'd forgotten that I had it. I- thought perhaps I might do so now. If we don't have any other immediate needs- I thought that I could use it to make some new clothing. Phil's present reminded me that I didn't make anything towards a trousseau."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "That's because we only had one week, sweetheart. It's a great idea. And of course, you should use it- it's your money."

Anne chuckled. "Well, it will make a start. Thank you, by the way- it's been a wonderful day."

He grinned, pulling his pyjamas from his bed. "My pleasure."

Anne's mouth quirked in the sudden silence. "You want to ask me about it, don't you?"

Gilbert began to laugh sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me," she admitted and bit her lip in indecision. "It's a _not for now_ present." He turned to her curiously, and she could almost see his brain ticking. She willed her cheeks to cool and spoke to the book in her hand. "It's- just- a nightgown."

He frowned dubiously. "Then why hide it? I'm a married man. I've seen your nightgowns before."

"You haven't seen this one," she mumbled, her cheeks growing even hotter under his gaze. "It's a rather- _special_ one- for a- a special occasion."

Gilbert had been walking to the dressing room, and he stopped cold. She felt him turn, and his voice jumped an octave. "What do you mean by _special_?"

She felt the weight on the bed shift as he sat down near her feet, and chuckled. "You could say that- it's for a _once in a lifetime_ occasion."

His head snapped up in sudden comprehension, and he gulped. "You mean- then- it's- it's for _that_?"

She raised a teasing eyebrow at Gilbert's inarticulate manner, and decided to be straightforward- he was adorable when he was rattled. "It's for our wedding night, Gil."

His reaction didn't disappoint, and he almost slipped off the end of her bed in shock. He looked at her with a glazed expression. " _Really_?"

Anne chuckled, blushing furiously. "I wouldn't make this up, Gilbert."

He hesitated. "What's it like?"

She looked up to see an oddly yearning look on his face, one that made butterflies she never knew she had flutter madly. "It's beautiful." Gilbert's look was dreamy, and he nodded as he got to his feet. She cleared her throat and he almost missed her next words- "and I think you will like it."

Somehow Gilbert got himself into the dressing room and sank back against the closed door, his hand on his thumping chest. A dazed grin covered his features, and he had to stop himself from laughing out loud at the sheer joy welling up in his chest. If only he could go back in time to the fellow who had walked away from Patty's Place after the accident, so sure that he was about to lose the woman he loved- he'd grab him and waltz crazily down the street- and he would tell him that everything was going to be alright.

* * *

Two days after her birthday, Anne walked into her English class and went to sit down. There were several people watching her, something she had grown used to ignoring- however as she placed her coat on her chair, she saw something on the desk that made her freeze- a single white orchid with a small note beside it, its elegantly lettered sentiment cryptic.

 _A little birdie told me it was your birthday…_

Anne dropped it at once, her face inscrutable. She heard a small titter from some girls in the classroom, and then Roy took his place beside her, his manner mild. Anne shot him an odd look, and when he turned to her, he nodded his smooth, dark head. "I hope you had a nice day," he murmured, and Anne turned back to the front, her mind moving furiously. The whispers grew louder, and she lifted her chin gamely, even as she saw a smirk cross Roy's handsome face. Professor Winston called the class to attention, and Anne pulled out her notebook, Gilbert's twisted smile foremost in her mind.

Perhaps it was time to try something different.

* * *

On Thursday night, Gilbert was at work at the kitchen table while Anne flitted about aimlessly through the house. Gilbert kept one eye on her as she came and went, hoping that she would eventually come clean about what was bothering her. He scratched his eyebrow with a frown, wondering if she was ready for him to ask her outright.

"Anne?"

"Hmm?"

"Is anything wrong?"

She turned to him in bewilderment, a dishcloth hanging from her hand. "What makes you say that?"

Gilbert put his pencil down, his look mild. "You just rearranged the cabinets twice. You do that when you're worrying about something."

Anne's cheeks turned pink, however, she sat down opposite him.

"I- I wondered if I might have your help with a problem."

His voice was teasing, wanting her to relax. "Anything for you, Mrs Blythe."

Anne huffed slightly, her cheeks now turning a bright red. "It's about that, actually."

Gilbert sobered, watching her shift on her chair. "Oh?"

"Do you remember Royal Gardner?"

He paused, puzzled at the question. "The fellow in your class? Ronald's friend?"

Anne's cheeks were hot, and she refused to look at him. "Yes. It's- it's rather hard to explain- and I thought I was imagining things for a time."

"Yes, I'm familiar with your work, Anne," he teased, his easy smile belying the unease in his chest.

"Roy- is rather- more attentive than I would like," Anne said carefully, and Gilbert froze. "He makes little comments, drops flowers on my desk- and- well, this was today's offering."

She handed him a piece of paper with a few hastily scratched lines, and Gilbert's fingers tightened on his pencil, his eyes beginning to burn in anger.

"Is he allowed to misquote Tennyson like that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. The tension eased somewhat when Anne chuckled.

"So far as I am concerned? No." She folded her arms on the table sedately, however, he could read the anxiety on her face. "He will often choose to bait me in class directly- not that that concerns me, as such. It's his other behaviour, which is only just below the level of flirtatiousness. I have made it clear that it is not welcome, and yet he appears to treat that like a challenge. It's starting to cause gossip within our year."

Gilbert flexed his fingers, longing to wrap them around a certain man's throat, but he drew in a deep breath as common sense took over. He folded his arms to study her. "Anne, I'm more than happy to jump in and break his nose without question- frankly, the sooner, the better- but you've never been one to stand back when others are imposing on you," he said carefully. "What's stopping you from doing it this time?"

Her answer was not the one he had expected. "Unfortunately, our circumstances, Gil. I'm tempted to break something over his head as I once did to you-" Gilbert cleared his throat with an attempt to hide a fond smile, suddenly seeing those young, green eyes blazing with fury. "-However, it will only make more gossip if I fly into a temper," she stated, and Gilbert's eyes widened. "The rumours have finally begun to settle down about us, and we do not need the extra attention."

Gilbert let out a disgruntled sigh. "Well, you're right about that," he commented, and settled back in his seat. His look was thoughtful then, as he regarded her. "What would you like me to do?"

Anne 's shoulders dropped in relief. "Would you mind walking with me to and from my classes? I think it would be best for him to see you- to see _us_ in person."

A smirk began to form on Gilbert's handsome face. "You want me to stake my public claim on you."

Anne's cheeks reddened crossly. " _Oh_! Only you would respond to this in a thoroughly Neanderthal manner." As he apologised, laughing, she scowled. "But essentially, _yes_. If you were present more, he might desist without me resorting to violence."

"And what if _I_ resort to it?" Anne shook her head as Gilbert sobered, and he couldn't hide the warmth in his eyes. "I would have been walking with you before now, Anne- but I figured that you didn't need me smothering you."

Anne rolled her eyes. "And yet it was you that said we needed to show a more united front."

"I did. Dare I ask how long this has been going on?"

Anne let out a long breath, her eyes regretful. "For a few weeks. I didn't wish to bother you if I was worrying about nothing."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose, but he only nodded. "Well, it ends now."

Anne's eyes twinkled. "Thank you. Is there anyone you need me to scare away from you?"

She couldn't interpret the gleam in his eye that showed for a brief second, however, his answer was easy. "I'll be sure to let you know." He began to pack away his materials then, much to her astonishment. "Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked suddenly.

Anne blinked. "Didn't you need to finish your work tonight?"

"After we get back. Let's just spend some time together."

Anne nodded, surprised. "I'll get my coat."

Gilbert watched her go with a loving look. In his heart was a small victory worth celebrating- she'd come to him, trusted him with this. They were in a good place. He saw with sudden clarity that he'd been on edge ever since they arrived at Redmond- always so afraid that he would lose her. Their unexpected marriage had changed everything. There was time to concentrate on their studies, on getting to know each other without the crippling fear- and it had set him free in a way he hadn't felt in years. Evidently, she felt that too. There was a smile on his face as he went to put on his coat, wondering at the weight that had fallen from his shoulders. He loved her, he desired her- but he could focus on what really mattered now. There would come a day when everything would change again- but he would wait for it with patience.

The following day, Gilbert walked through the doors of the English classroom to see Anne packing up her satchel down the front. Gilbert's gaze found Roy beside her, bending down to speak to her with a clear look of interest- and Gilbert's jaw spasmed. Soon, though, a wicked smile crossed his face. He strode down the aisle with his hands in his pockets, and after greeting Professor Winston he came to stand directly between Anne and Roy.

"Darling, I'm sorry that I'm late," he murmured, bending to kiss her cheek lingeringly. "Interesting class?"

Anne's face flushed, however her eyes twinkled at the look of shock on Roy's face. "Very."

Gilbert turned then to view the gentleman behind him coolly. His handshake was a shade firmer than necessary, but his smile was relaxed. "Gardner, good to see you. And how is Miss Stuart?"

Roy adjusted his immaculate cuffs idly. "Well, I think. Shall I send her your greetings, Mr Blythe?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Of course. Anne and I took in one of her recitals last week- she is very talented. Tell me, Roy do you find the study of English as interesting as my beloved wife does?"

The melancholy gentleman manufactured a smile, and his voice was smooth. "I do, indeed. Mrs Blythe has a keen intellect that is challenging to keep up with." He eyed Gilbert carefully. "Very progressive of you to allow your wife to continue her studies, Blythe. Not many would be so open minded."

Gilbert's lazy smile was clearly designed to unsettle the gentleman, and Anne choked back a snort of laughter at his expression. "I assure you that my wife is equally as progressive as I am- we would never dream of limiting each other for the sake of society; would we, love?"

Gilbert's sentiment was real, and for a moment Anne's eyes softened as she met his. She cleared her throat then. "We certainly wouldn't." She turned to Roy politely, stepping into Gilbert's side easily. "You must excuse us, Mr Gardner, we have an engagement this evening." Gilbert smiled and took the books from Anne, his arm slipping around her waist. Ignoring the gentlemen nearby, he turned his head as they walked so that his nose brushed her temple, and he could clearly be heard to whisper- "You look like a dryad in this dress, sweetheart. You don't know what it does to me."

Roy was still standing when Professor Winston walked past him. "Come on Gardner, out of the aisle. An exceptional pair, don't you think?"

The younger man cleared his throat politely. "Yes. Quite."

* * *

Once they were safely in the park, Anne rounded on Gilbert with narrowed eyes. "You enjoyed that far too much, Gil."

Gilbert hitched up his own satchel with a grin. "Alright, so I did. Doesn't every man wants to ride into battle for the honour of his lady?"

She stopped then, eying him curiously. "Even when his lady arrives at his side by default? You didn't exactly ask for this, Gil."

He gave her a smile that seemed wistful, and squeezed her hand. "I should have. Anne, I haven't said a single thing that I didn't mean since this all began. I told you- I don't care how we arrived at this place. I think we've got a better foundation than most couples- and if I thought you wouldn't kill me for it, I'd have socked Gardner in the eye today."

She laughed, her perfect nose wrinkling adorably. "If I wanted that, I would have done it myself." Anne pulled her hand from Gilbert's then, only to tuck it into the crook of his arm, keeping in step with him easily. "I'd forgotten how much fun it was to go into battle together," she said suddenly, earning a smile from Gilbert. "We haven't been so terrible since our AVIS days."

Gilbert chuckled. "I've missed it." Again the air seemed full of statements that could not be made, until he grinned wickedly. "I can't wait to see his face when I meet you at class with a sonnet that I wrote myself."

Anne turned to him in comical horror. "Gilbert Blythe, you wouldn't!"

" _Wouldn't_ I?"

There was only time to catch his grin, and he was off and running toward their home.


	19. Chapter 19, Lovesick

**Chapter 19**

It was late on Monday night when Gilbert arrived home from a meeting with Professor Daniels, and he smiled to see a light in the window. Coming home was by far the most wonderful time of the day- instead of a cold boardinghouse room, there was a warm fire, warm bed and Anne; her beautiful red head bent over notebooks or her sewing.

The latter made him feel things that he couldn't quite process. She would tuck her feet up on the sofa with something little in her hands, the needle moving in and out while he read letters from home or excerpts from their textbooks aloud. In the evenings when their work was done it would come out, and he found himself watching her eyes bent over delicate work that he could never quite identify. He did his own work and moved about his chores too, occasionally feeling as if it must be a dream. He felt oddly as if they were living in a fairytale- after all, mushrooms didn't grow on city streets- and Anne had always been akin to the improbable. He'd laughed at himself for his whimsy- and yet at the sight of her working on web-like lace, the logical scholar would sink beneath the man in love, and he admitted that he would consent to follow his fairy anywhere.

He'd grown used to seeing Anne bent over the stove, or mixing something in the big bowl Marilla had insisted on sending with them. She looked as adorable as she had in the long ago days in Avonlea, when he would arrive at Green Gables to see her working with Marilla on preserves or baking, often teasing her about finding her domestic side when her studies palled. He was the same- she had tormented him mercilessly when she surprised him in the old overalls he used in the summertime. He flushed, as he looked for his keys amongst the assorted things in his pockets. The last time, he'd been forking hay in the barn for his father. She had stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, and bright, sparkling eyes, teasing him about giving up school for the farm. Her dress had been yellow, he remembered, and the fresh spring wind had loosened some of her curls- in the sunshine they shone like copper. He'd swallowed hard, fighting the urge to stop her smart mouth by kissing her until neither of them could breathe. His memories of studying afterwards were vague- he was sure that most of him had remained in that barn, lost in how much he wanted her, the way she looked in the dim light of the old barn.

Gilbert looked around for Anne now as he walked through their front door, noting that the bedroom door was ajar, and the fire had died down to the glow of the coals. He peeked into the bedroom to see her curled up on her side, her breathing slow and steady. He smiled as he looked down at her, one slender hand unfurled beside her flushed cheek, and gently reached down to touch the gold rings on her fourth finger. She stirred slightly and he bent down to kiss her forehead, grinning at the sleepy mumble she gave.

Having finished most of their work on the weekend, he and Anne had planned to attend a concert that night- until Professor Daniels had announced that the Cooper preparation must begin immediately. Anne had only smiled faintly and commented that she didn't mind- she was rather tired. Gilbert had looked at her oddly- she didn't quite seem herself, he thought. Mentally, his thoughts went to the calendar- but no, that wasn't due for another week or so. He grinned wickedly, remembering. She'd not been at _all_ happy last month when he'd outright asked her after a particularly snippy comment- and he assumed that it annoyed her more because he was _right_.

Still, it kept life interesting.

As the clock in the sitting room chimed midnight, Gilbert undressed quietly in the bedroom. He stretched out on his bed in the darkness and let out a long sigh, his hands coming up to rub his face. He was exhausted- the team had been practising relentlessly for weeks for an upcoming game, and the various committees he was on had all insisted on meeting that week- Anne herself was preparing for a debate the following month. She'd not told him the topic she was arguing yet- which was slightly odd in itself. Professor Daniels announced that he would be meeting with him weekly, startling Gilbert with all that the prize entailed: he would sit extra exams, take part in specific charities- the Cooper family had been famous philanthropists, after all.

There was a growing unease in himself, regarding the prize. Had Anne really understand all that would be required of him in the coming year, if he was to qualify? He'd wrestled with it for weeks, before finally sitting her down on the sofa to talk to her seriously. She would be married to a student for four more years after all- he could work in the holidays, but not through the term. She would find it harder to get employment as a married woman, and schools may not look at her favourably. They would have to remain in the city…

She'd listened intently as he went on, her intelligent grey eyes fixed on him- and then proceeded to ask why he was concerned. He'd almost choked in indignation- after all, he'd just _listed_ the reasons why- and he'd ended up laughing, as she had an answer for every problem he raised. Of course, then she'd got a roguish twinkle in her eye and called him _Doctor Blythe_ \- and only his determination to uphold his word kept him from bodily pressing her into the sofa, his mouth on hers and medical school a distant memory. Luckily, she was sweetly unconscious of his difficulties at that moment _(oh, please God, let her be sweetly unconscious)_ and rose to get ready for bed, already pulling the pins from her long hair.

Was Gilbert coming to bed then?

Err- no, Gilbert thought he would stay up for a little while.

* * *

Gilbert awoke from a restless sleep suddenly, his eyes wide the darkness at an unexpected sound. He pulled back the covers, his heart hammering. It was late on Monday evening- it couldn't be a student from the boarding house outside again, sick after a night of drinking with friends- no, the sound was coming from inside the house.

"Anne?"

She wasn't in her bed- and from the closeted room beside their bedroom, he could hear a deep, retching sound. He stared in consternation at the door and crept toward it.

"Anne, honey?" He flinched at the sound of her vomiting, and warily tapped on the door. "Are you alright?" When there was no answer but more heaving, Gilbert turned the knob to open the door- only to have it quickly shut in his face.

"Er- alright then," he said to the door awkwardly. "I'll- just- wait till you're done."

He sat on her bed, his forehead creased at the sounds emanating from the room, and when the door opened cautiously long minutes later, he stood up, ignoring the faint glare she shot him as she leant against the door frame.

"Come on, back to bed," he said in an attempt to soothe her, guiding her by the elbows, almost smiling as she attempted to climb under her covers head first, curling into a ball on the bed. "I'll go deal with that, alright?"

He could hear her protest weakly, however, he ignored her. He'd cared for his father for years, and dealt with much worse, and stoically carried the pan out to the outhouse. By the time he made it inside the bedroom again she was near sleep, and he knelt beside her bed, his face worried.

"What happened? Was it dinner?"

A groan came from her pillows, and she shook her head. "It's been coming on all afternoon," she mumbled. "Stella and Phil were sick earlier in the week."

Gilbert rubbed his face tiredly. "Because that's all we need right now," he muttered, trying to make her more comfortable. "You'll have to stay home tomorrow, Anne-girl- you can't go to college like this." He got up and placed the pan beside her bed, handing her a glass of water to sip, and Anne lay back on her bed with her eyes tightly closed. Gilbert couldn't help but smile and smoothed the hair off her damp forehead. "Sleep it off, sweetheart."

It was the start of a long night. The clock had chimed three when Gilbert awoke for the fifth time, coming to hold her hair back again- although thankfully, there was nothing in her stomach to come up anymore. The dry heaving was especially hard to witness, and he smoothed his hand over her back comfortingly. The pan had stayed empty this time, and Gilbert was surprised when she dropped her head onto his shoulder with a small shudder. He smiled, his arm around her. Her comments had been caustic between bouts- the sleep that eluded her was broken every twenty minutes, and once he had needed to help her change her nightgown- something a growling Anne was not happy about. He had tried to point out that her shift and bloomers covered most of her, only to have her scarlet in the face, and refuse to speak to him afterwards- only to apologise weakly when it began all over again.

By early dawn, Anne was spent- and when Gilbert left her for school, he had refilled the jug of water beside the bed, and made her a weak cup of tea that hopefully she would keep down. She waved him off with a bleary look in her eyes, and he promised that he would speak with Professor Winston about her work before he came home.

Anne awoke from her sleep early in the afternoon. Blinking grey eyes in the dim bedroom she pushed herself up with a groan, feeling the muscles she had strained in the night acutely. After a quick visit to the outhouse, she set the kettle on the stove, slumping onto the kitchen chair as she waited for it to boil. She could see the plate Gilbert had left from his breakfast that morning, and blushed slightly at the way he had assisted her through the night. Once again she reflected that he would make a marvellous doctor someday- calm and matter-of-fact, and every inch the gentleman his mother had raised him to be. She looked down at the light nightgown he had found in her drawer, wincing at the threadbare fabric. Heavens, why hadn't she noticed that it was becoming so transparent? It was hardly fit to be worn now. Phil was right- her nightwear should be the next thing she looked at. She shuffled around the living room picking up the books she had left out the night before, turning at the sound of the key in the lock.

"Gil?"

He eased himself through the door with his books, happy to see her up and about again. He handed her a small spray of wildflowers and smiled at the sparkle that leapt into her eyes at the pretty blooms. "I thought these might make you feel better. How are you feeling now?"

Anne chuckled dryly, moving to put them in water. "Empty- and not at all inclined to fill myself back up again."

Gilbert smiled. "You'll want to eat soon, I hope. There were a lot of people off sick today- it must be going around."

She shuddered, coming to sit a standstill. "I should have realised, Gil. The girls and I usually all get sick together- just like families do."

He smiled, taking his books to the desk in the corner. "And now it's just you and me." He straightened up, his look of horror comical. "You and _me_ , Anne-" Anne nodded tiredly, falling onto the sofa, and Gilbert chuckled to see her feet still bare. He took a blanket from the top of the chair and tucked it around her. "Oh well; if I'm going to get it, I will. There's no point worrying about it now."

Anne smiled slightly, snuggling into the cushion unconsciously. "Just be sure to be at home if you do."

He bent down to kiss her cheek and moved to stoke the fire again.

It was, however, two days later when he was sitting in a Biology class when he first felt queasy stirrings inside. He brushed it off, frowning. He was fine- utterly fine. At least a quarter of the class was absent that day- since Anne had been ill, the epidemic had seemed to run through the college and its staff. As a young Scottish fellow had been heard to say, the sick stomach was _nae deadly_ , but it did rather take the ginger out of one.*

For long minutes the sound of the professor's voice droned in the background, and by now Gilbert was feeling too miserable to even try to listen. Anne had only missed the one day, and he found himself sickly wondering just where she was at that moment- was it English, or Classics now? His mind wandered through what he remembered her saying at breakfast- and with that, the wave of nausea struck just as he was called on by the professor.

"Mr Blythe?"

Gilbert drew in a deep breath that he instantly regretted, his skin pale. "I'm sorry sir, I-" He gulped then, rising from his seat. "Sir, I need to go."

In the distance, he heard a sigh, and a faint- "Good grief, another one. Blythe, go to the infirmary on your way out."

The fresh air outside cleared his head for an instant, and so, of course, he didn't go to the infirmary. He paused at the entrance to the main halls trying to remember again where Anne was- until he heard the old bell on the tower, and people began to stream out into the courtyard. Through a sea of people, he stood stupidly in the centre, his head turning this way and that looking for her red head. Eventually, he heard her voice behind him.

"Gil? Shouldn't you be heading to chemistry?"

He wanted to say hello- he wanted to tell her that he was heading home- however, he had enough sense to know that it was a bad idea to open his mouth at that moment. Fortunately, Anne was quicker than he to recognise the problem, and her face fell.

"Oh, Gil. Not here."

Gilbert glared. "I didn't chose 'here' for fun," he grumbled, making her laugh. Compassion was quick to follow, and she tucked her arm through his, turning him toward their home.

"Come on, Gilbert. I know something that might help."

To Anne's relief, they had been home for twenty minutes before he became ill- and she sighed comically, hearing the horrendous noises coming from the little outhouse. What was it Mrs Lynde had always said? A man could never be sick in a quiet fashion- no, the whole countryside had to know about his misery. Anne stood at the kitchen bench compounding ginger with the mint that grew thickly behind the house. She looked up as the door opened, and her rather seedy looking husband entered, walking straight to the bedroom to flop on his bed, his jacket shed untidily on the floor. Anne followed him in, her eyes twinkling, even as she tried to be sympathetic.

"Gil, you knew that this was going around-"

There was a groan that came from the depths of his mattress then, and Anne bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. He'd never handled being ill well- back in their first winter of teaching he'd come down with influenza. When Anne learned that his mother wouldn't let him return to White Sands until he was well, she'd gone to see him after school to find a thoroughly grumpy young man being force-fed soup and tea. She'd only stopped laughing once she'd seen the real frustration in his hazel eyes, and agreed to read to him the textbook they were currently working through. Anne's eyes softened. She'd not gotten close enough to touch him then- but she remembered that he'd managed to sleep peacefully with her there.

Now, she sat by him on the bed, her look indulgent. She let her hand rest on his brown, curly head for a moment, freezing as he shifted so that his head now lay in her lap.

"Are you quite comfortable there, Mr Blythe?" she asked dryly, her cheeks flaming when he nodded against her thigh. "Well- alright, then. Time for bed."

"I'm fine right _here_."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you are- but you still need to get undressed." She could almost feel the smug grin on his face, and bent down to meet his amused look. "Behave yourself, Gil, or you're on your own this afternoon." Her eyes softened at his sheepish smile, and she stood up slowly, giving him time to move. "I'll just get some pajamas for you."

He pushed himself upright on the bed, and rubbed his stubbly jaw. "Sorry, Anne. I know you should have been in English now."

She shrugged, opening his drawer. "We were working on a writing assignment today- one I have already spoken to Professor Winston about. I'll just work on it here."

He stood upright slowly. "I just wanted to tell you I was going home- it hit quite suddenly."

Anne turned to pull his covers back then, her look kind. "It's the nature of the beast, I suppose- my history class was down in number today. Do you suppose anyone is seriously ill?"

Gilbert sighed. "Probably not- unless there's a predisposition to illness." He stood still, his brow furrowed. "I'd love to work out how it spreads so quickly."

Anne chuckled. "Ever the scientist, I see. There will be time enough for that later- and you'd better hope that round _two_ isn't on its way. For now, trust me, it's best to sleep."

After some good natured grumbling and a brief, revolting second episode, Gilbert was tucked up in his bed for the afternoon, and managed to sleep the afternoon away. Anne puttered around the house getting odd jobs done and checking on Gilbert from time to time. She'd spent her formative years caring for others, and then Marilla had needed care from time to time with her headaches- and oddly enough, it was Jo's words that kept coming to mind. _Choosing_ love, _choosing_ to take care of each other. Was it perhaps a better way to love than the heady sense of attraction that the poets celebrated? Or was it somehow all the same? Anne had wrestled with that in the beginning- to tell the truth, she was no more sure of her position on the matter now. Of course, she simply _was_ in this place where Gilbert Blythe was her husband- and so it wasn't really a struggle. It only remained to choose.

When there was nothing more to be done, Anne dressed for bed and was surprised to hear his voice just as she went to climb between her sheets.

"Anne?"

"Did you need something, Gil?"

"I can't _sleeeep_."

This plaintive statement made her laugh, and she climbed out of bed to cross to his side.

"Gilbert, you are worse than Davy when he's ill!" she scolded quietly. She bent over to check his forehead, pleased to see that he was neither clammy nor overheated. "It seems to be over for now- just lie down and close your eyes."

"But I'm not tired now."

Anne chuckled. "So inside the body of the man, is the little boy whose mother spoiled him rotten when he was ill?"

"You'd take jabs at a man when he's down?" he grumbled, his eyes nevertheless oddly hopeful.

"Not so very far down- and your mother told me that she spoiled you long ago," his amused wife added.

He grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder. "Sit with me," he cajoled. "You could read me _The Dependence Between the Properties of the Atomic Weights of the Elements._ Gripping story."

Anne chuckled. "As fascinating as that sounds, I will decline."

Gilbert pouted, making Anne smile, unsure why she was still humoring him. "Just- just sit next to me."

Anne hesitated. She'd sat on his bed enough times, sometimes next to him- and yet this was yet another boundary line to be crossed. Of course, a sick stomach was hardly what could be termed a romantic illness. She moved round to the other side of the bed, and climbed up next to him, sitting up against the headboard. Her eyes suddenly twinkled. "What now, then?"

He lay back on his pillows, tracing the lines of her long nightgown with a smile. This was the one with the pink ribbon- and the pretty frills on her sleeves. He liked that one. "What do we do afterward?" he asked suddenly.

"Didn't I just ask you that?"

"No- I mean after college- after all this," he said, waving his hand around vaguely. "We've only ever talked about Redmond, never after. It's a bit short sighted of us."

Anne frowned. "I think we've got plenty to be going on with, Gil. And we don't know enough to discuss it. Anything could happen, couldn't it?"

He made a noncommittal noise, and was silent for a moment. "So what do you want one day? Diamond sunbursts and marble halls?"

Anne laughed, beginning to relax. "Once upon a time, I might have said yes." She looked around the dark little bedroom, her lamp still burning next to her bed under the window. "I think our Mushroom has changed my mind."

Gilbert glared at her. "If you think this is the best we are ever going to do in our lives-"

Anne swatted him. "I don't mean that, Gil. I think that we would make the best of any house we live in, wouldn't we? We would fix up one that was run down, and we would grow to love it."

Gilbert sighed. "You're right- but I promise that I'm going to do better for us than this."

"I don't doubt that." There was silence for a time, until Anne spoke again, "You once said that you didn't want children."

He sat up then, indignant. "I wasn't being serious, you know that! I've _always_ wanted children- I only said that after a bad week at school."

She chuckled, pulling her hair out of her braid to redo it. "I remember. A broken arm- and a paste explosion?"

Gilbert snorted, settling back. "And a visit from a police man about one of my troublemakers. Three sticky children sent home to irate parents- and I was accused of teaching heresy by another. All in one week."

Anne giggled, dropping the strand she was working on. "I'd quite forgotten that part. Ptolemy's theory of moving bodies, wasn't it?"

He rolled onto his side to watch her hands move through the thick, red curls. "It's nothing Galileo didn't experience. At least the school board was in my corner for that one."

Anne's cheeks heated, aware that they were dodging the issue- and yet they had to start somewhere. Why hadn't they discussed this before?

" _Do_ you want children?"

"Of course," he answered immediately, his look suddenly wistful. "I want- that is, I'd _like_ \- a full house. Where no one is ever alone- not like you and I were."

Anne paled. She'd not exactly been _alone_ \- except in families that weren't her own. "True."

He sighed, falling back to look at the dark ceiling. "I want the boys to have sisters, so that they grow up having compassion and understanding for women-"

"Not like you, then," Anne said slyly, before jumping at the pinch he cheekily gave her.

"And I want the girls to have brothers who will protect them." He seemed to struggle then, his face shadowed. "You should have had an older brother who flattened me for teasing you."

Anne smiled retrospectively. "I can handle myself, as you well know. However- it would have been- _nice_ \- to have that too."

Gilbert sighed in contentment, this time. "And what about you?"

In the dim light, he saw her smile, her look distant. "I love babies. There were four born at the Hammond's while I was there. I loved seeing them grow- watching them change-" her voice faltered then, remembering that when the children were older they began to treat her as their parents did. "I want our children to be safe," she said softly. "Safe, and loved, and protected-"

Gilbert grabbed her hand, sitting up so that he could meet her grey eyes squarely. There was a look deep in their depths that he could only guess at, and his voice was low. "They _will_ be, Anne; I swear to you that they'll be loved and safe."

He watched her swallow, and force a smile. Some veil seemed to fall, and he braced himself for the change in her demeanor.

"Of course. So- children, certainly. We'll need a big house, then."

Gilbert nodded. "Of course. And a fence- I used to run away a lot when I was small."

Anne shrugged, thinking of chubby knees and dimpled cheeks with a little smile. "I'm not worried- both of us are quite fast. You will work in a career that you love- and I suppose that one day I would like to write," she said slowly. "Properly, I mean." She turned to him them with a fierce look, ready to lecture, when he grinned and grabbed her pointed index finger to kiss it, rendering her silent.

"I won't mention baking powder, sweetheart; I know the rules. Just know that I'm proud of you." He was tiring now, and rested back against his pillow again. "We could live anywhere we wanted to, afterward."

Anne looked down at where he still had a hold of her finger, her look curious. "Did you want to go back to Avonlea?"

He frowned. "I suppose it all depends on what I end up doing. Whether or not I get the scholarship, or if we take it; what you decide to do with work while I'm studying, whether there is a vacancy there for me to fill some day-"

Anne sighed. "I suppose that is the part of the future that we can't control."

There was silence for a short time, and Anne wasn't surprised to look down and see that he was almost asleep beside her. She watched him for a moment, brushing one of his brown curls from his face gently, a small smile on her face. She leant over to kiss his forehead, and climbed off his bed to walk around to her own.

"Anne?" she heard, just as she got under her covers. "Thank you."

Her voice was soft. "You're welcome, Gil."

* * *

By the first week of April, spring was definitely in the air, and the student population returned to normal health. Anne was startled to realise that she and Gilbert had been already been married for five months now. So far their studies were progressing well- and even Professor Hallett had nothing to say to the couple when he observed them going about their business. Anne still missed the merriment of Patty's Place, and was pleased to be able to return there from time to time to see the girls outside of college hours.

On this morning she had walked through the park that separated the centre of Kingsport from the harbour, glorying in the sunshine after the long winter. When she arrived at Patty's Place her hands were full of mayflowers, and she found herself pulled into Stella's arms with a happy shout when she knocked at the front door with her overnight bag.

"Anne! We were just saying that it was the perfect weekend for you to come."

Anne beamed, shedding her coat quickly. "It is! I didn't think I could spend the weekend in my dark house with Gilbert away- not in this weather."

Stella pulled her in through the door, her black eyes twinkling. "And where is he, this weekend?"

Everyone smiled, watching Anne fall into her favourite chair with a sigh. "The Redmond team is playing another college- Dartmouth, I believe."

Phil smirked. "And you didn't want to go along to make sure that he doesn't get knocked out again?"

"No, I am afraid that I have to trust him to keep safe on his own- the boys are staying at the other college overnight, I think. He told me that we weren't allowed to get up to any mischief without him."

Priscilla snorted, slinging herself on the sofa near Anne. "As if we would wait! Anne, we're putting you in the blue room tonight, although we have no intention of letting you go to bed early- it's been too long since we had the chance to catch up properly."

Exams were due to begin the following week, and so the day was spent working outside in the sunshine, with Aunt Jamesina bringing out cookies and pastries, pausing to sit with the girls and catch up on their news. The girls had received Miss Patty's assurances that they could remain in the house for another year, and on the weekend before, Jonas had proposed to Phil. Phil herself was deliriously happy, proudly wearing the ring that had been his mother's, and Anne couldn't help but beam, remembering Jo's unexplained visit to see Gilbert only the week before. She had taken herself to visit Mrs Whitley for tea, sensing that she was not required for that conversation. Now, here was the end result- and Phil and her Jo were blissfully content.

* * *

Late that night all books had been packed away, and Aunt Jimsie sternly warned the girls that they should be heading for bed now. Anne smiled, knowing that they wouldn't be asleep for some time yet. The four girls gathered in Stella's room, the largest of the bedrooms upstairs, and all sat cross legged on the old fashioned bed built by Preston Spofford many years ago. Phil tossed Anne a shawl and snuggled down amongst the pillows.

"Do you wish you were at home right now, Mrs Blythe?"

Anne's eyes twinkled. "Not alone, certainly. You've no idea how silent a house can be when no one else is there- and Rusty isn't nearly so loud."

"You miss Gilbert," Stella said smugly.

Anne chuckled, her cheeks pink. "We spend almost every moment together. Of course, I do."

"And you like living with him?"

The redhead turned twinkling grey eyes to Priscilla. "He doesn't borrow my clothes, at least." At their entreaties to be serious, Anne sighed. "It's a little frightening to realise how easy it is. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else, now."

Phil pouted. "Not even with us?" She grinned as a frilly cushion hit her in the face, and sat up. "I've never seen Gilbert look this happy before."

Stella shot Anne a curious look, seeing the shadow that crossed over it. "Anne?"

Her brow lowered, and she played with her wedding rings thoughtfully. "I- it's fine. Better than fine," she amended hastily, tucking red curls behind her ear. "I keep asking myself where we would be if we hadn't done it," she said softly.

Phil shot an alarmed look at the girls then. "You don't mean-"

"Oh, not that I would change it," she hastily added, her cheeks suddenly hot. "I wouldn't. I just wonder if it's what he expected it would be."

Priscilla gave Anne's knee a pat. "Don't be an idiot, honey- Gilbert looks revoltingly happy, well fed, and he's bursting with pride over you. I don't understand why you aren't doing the same over him."

Anne's head snapped up in shock. "I _am_ very proud of him!"

Prissy put on her most wheedling look. "Anne, no one would blame you for being just a little bit smug- especially to all those girls who had such a field day over the gossip about the two of you."

"No, I won't play those games," Anne said, shaking her head. "If Gilbert is happy-"

"Do you ever tell him how happy _you_ are?" Phil asked, a slight smile on her face. "He'd love to hear that. Or at the very least how in love with him you are."

Anne paled, feeling exposed. "He's- he's not expecting to hear that from me yet," Anne stuttered. "We said we'd give it time- we- he _promised_ that we would give it time-"

Stella shuffled over to take Anne's hand, her look gentle. "Breathe, sweetie- it's not _him_ asking, it's _us_. We just want to know how everything is going. But out of curiosity, why does the idea frighten you so?"

Anne breathed deeply, pulling her green dressing gown around her. "We're- doing so well," she whispered, the vulnerability in her eyes making Phil's eyes tear up a little. "I'm just not ready to change things so drastically. I can't imagine a better house mate- or a better friend- and I can't imagine caring for anyone more. But what if being in love isn't everything I dreamed it would be? What if it's not enough?"

Phil's eyes softened, thinking of the look on Jo's face when she told him that she loved him. Gilbert deserved for Anne to feel sure too. "Anne, it won't let you down. It won't be a fairytale. It'll be real, and messy. But you're going to fall in love with him- and trust me, you won't regret it a bit."

Anne gave her a faint glare. "I don't typically do things just because people tell me that I have to."

To this, Phil began to laugh. "Of course you don't, sweetie. Just remember to tell us how everything is progressing, won't you? Even if it _is_ at a glacial pace."

Suddenly a naughty twinkle came into Anne's grey eyes at Phil's complacency. "I suppose then I should tell you that I ended up in Gilbert's bed the other night?"

Anne smiled angelically as Stella shrieked and tumbled off the bed in shock, Phil gaped in unladylike surprise, and the hapless Priscilla dissolved into fits of laughter.

Sometimes it was _nice_ to be able to shock the girls who loved to unsettle her.

* * *

Late that night, when Anne settled into her bed in her old blue room, she had a slight smile on her face. Five months had evidently made a good deal of difference. The bed wasn't quite right for her anymore, the light walls reflected the moonlight so brightly- and more importantly, there was no answering breath on the other side of the bedroom. She chuckled, seeing how thoroughly her life with Gilbert replaced her old one. Where was he right now? A train ride away, asleep in a dormitory, with snorers all around him- or so he had suggested when he left her that morning.

Anne rolled onto her side, her face flushing. Gilbert had said goodbye to her when the sun was barely up, his bag slung over one shoulder, and his tie knotted loosely on his neck. She'd straightened it for him then and teased him about enjoying the bachelor life- and been surprised mid-sentence when he pressed her against their front door, his warm lips on hers and his big hand holding her waist to him possessively. He'd pulled back with a heat in his hazel eyes, and grinned at her.

"I'll be home tomorrow, love."

Anne lay still in the darkness now, her cheeks hot. It was a word she'd been quite cagey about, lately. They hadn't begun their marriage with that in their sights- well, _she_ hadn't, and yet she felt that it was always the elephant in the room. So much pressure, so much leeway to fail- and yet when Gilbert called her that as he did so often lately, the independent girl she had always been seemed to mock this new, far more unsure Anne. She closed her eyes, sighing and allowing her body to relax into the unfamiliar mattress, somehow missing the dark bedroom she and Gilbert had shared for the past five months.

They would find a way through together, they always did. But deep inside her right now, along with a flutter that wouldn't go away, there was one plea in her heart.

She needed _time_.

* * *

*Emily Climbs, L.M. Montgomery


	20. Chapter 20, The Dance

It was nearing eight o'clock in the evening when Gilbert entered the bustling hall where the Debating club supper was being held, searching for Phil and Priscilla. He found them standing near the refreshments, and Gilbert gave Phil a huge grin as he took a seat beside her.

"They still aren't out?"

Priscilla's eyes twinkled. "The affirmative team are still licking their wounds- and your wife is responsible for a good deal of them."

Gilbert shook his head, amused. "Asking 'Is the education of women contributing to the moral decline of society?' They should be lucky they survived."

Phil shrugged, looking around the room. " You'll notice no women argued for the other side. The topic was chosen by the faculty- I suspect it may have been Hallett."

Gilbert hadn't been able to keep the proud smile from his face as he watched her in action. Her cheeks were flushed, and she held herself with a certain queenishness well known at Redmond- and he couldn't help but chuckle at the effortless way she cut down the previous speaker's arguments. He was unaware that the grin was still firmly in place, until Phil elbowed him when a young woman moved away them.

"Would you stop daydreaming? You just snubbed the daughter of a politician. I ended up telling her you were simple," she said wickedly, as he scowled. "Your pride in her notwithstanding, do pay attention."

Gilbert chuckled. "I can't help it. Seeing her tonight- it's _Anne_ again."

Phil gave him an odd look. "And?"

He shrugged, his look tender. "Phil, that was the girl I went to school with. Passionate, and full of fire- and not afraid of anyone."

"Stella said something similar, you know."

Gilbert looked at her oddly. "Oh?"

"Oh, just that Anne is getting some of her spirit back."

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably. "I hope you don't think I took that away."

Phil rolled her eyes at him. "Of course not. I just assumed she would come back to normal when things between you stabilized- and they are."

"Here and there," Gilbert said noncommittally. He saw Phil's look of alarm and sighed. "Phil, it's _fine_. I'm just finding that progress isn't exactly a straight line with us."

Phil stared at him hard. "You know, you aren't easing my mind yet."

Gilbert gave her a wry grin. "Sometimes- it's like one step forward, one step back- sometimes more. It's a rather frustrating dance." He settled back on his chair with a sigh. "You know, I thought I knew her before- but I've seen such a different side of her these last few months. I didn't think I could love her more than I did back then, but I was wrong."

Phil gave him an indulgent look. "You are a sap," she said affectionately. "Anne claims that she was absolutely awful to you at school. Were you simply masochistic? I've seen her angry, and it's not pretty."

He grinned. "Maybe I just wanted a challenge. And no, she was no saint." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his hazel eyes warm. "Even at eleven, Anne was so passionate. She was bright, and capable and imaginative, and- she understood how to _live_. She was fiercely loyal to those she loved. She didn't bow down to the girls who looked down on her- and she certainly didn't to me," he said dryly, and gave a short laugh. "I was behind in school when I got back from Alberta- not that I was worried that I couldn't catch up. And then there was this red-headed girl who had barely attended school sticking her freckled nose in the air and doing everything she could to beat me. Somewhere along the line, I decided that it would be worth it to get her to forgive me- so I tried to be the kind of fellow that she could respect."

Phil turned to him, her brown eyes gentle. "Have you considered telling _her_ all this? Not that I mind you professing your love for her- but why isn't it to Anne, yet?"

He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "What makes you think I haven't already?"

"Because I have a feeling I would have heard about it if you _had_ ," Phil said dryly.

Gilbert paused, his face impassive. "I- I guess I'm not sure if she's ready to hear it yet. I've gone to tell her a hundred times, and then I find myself wondering how it would feel if she didn't say it back." He turned his hat around in his long fingers, a frown on his lean face. "You were right all those months ago, she is keeping something back from everyone- from _me_. And that has to be alright," he said, slowly. "I knew in the beginning that it would take time. I suppose I just wanted to wait until she was in the same place I was- and I want it to be special."

The doors opened then, and there was a round of applause as the winning team were ushered in to accept the small trophy from the president of the club. Gilbert clapped loudly, grinning as the students were ushered to stand in front of the podium to pose for pictures.

Phil saw that Anne would be some time yet, and turned back to Gilbert. "I told Jo first, you know," she said suddenly, surprising him. "He didn't believe he had anything to offer Aidan Gordon's daughter- and so he wouldn't say anything until I did. He didn't feel he had the right to any expectations- and so one day I burst into tears and told him everything."

Gilbert folded his arms, watching the small peridot on Phil's finger twinkle in the light. "I appreciate your viewpoint," he said carefully. "But I think it's something we're going to have to figure out for ourselves. She's well- she's happy, maybe that's all I can ask, for now."

Phil looked at him shrewdly. "Are _you_ happy?"

He looked surprised by the question. "Very. Of course, I'd be ecstatic if she suddenly stood up and declared her love for me to everyone present-"

Anne _did_ stand up at that exact moment, and Phil began to laugh at the jump Gilbert gave. From her place on the floor, Anne gave her husband and friend a bemused look and turned back to her teammates. Phil finally caught her breath and wiped her streaming eyes, ignoring the frowns coming from their neighbours. "I'll have to congratulate Anne on the timing of that later, Gil. You should be so fortunate."

Gilbert could laugh at himself and did, his cheeks flushing. "Well, one day, God willing, I will be."

* * *

Anne was relieved when they were at last dismissed officially. Knowing that Gilbert was waiting, she moved into the anteroom to gather her belongings, feeling somewhat guilty that she hadn't been able to speak to him yet. When she got there, however, Claire Hallett was putting her books away, her posture stiff.

"I thought we did very well, tonight," Anne volunteered, her eyes watchful.

There was no answer, and Anne sighed, turning away. She gathered up the papers from the desk to sort into piles, and only looked up when the door behind them opened. To Anne's surprise, Professor Hallett himself stepped inside, his manner stiff as he addressed himself to Anne.

"Well done, tonight, Mrs Blythe. Your arguments were clear, although you overstated some points, I felt. Nevertheless, it was an impressive score."

Anne nodded. "Thank you. The team was a strong one, sir- and Mr Austen led well."

He looked at her critically. "Your grades are high across all subjects, Mrs Blythe. You must be working hard."

Anne gave an odd look to the silent girl in the room, wishing that he had chosen a better time to discuss this. "Thank you, sir."

"See that it doesn't change next year," he said crisply. "The hardest term is yet to come. Give my regards to Mr Blythe." He turned to Claire then, his manner awkward. "Claire, your mother is waiting for us. Please don't dawdle."

Anne made the mistake of looking at Claire as he left the room, and the sudden look of hurt on her face jolted Anne. "Claire? What's wrong?"

Claire put her papers in her bag, her eyes smarting. "Not that it's any of your business, but _nothing_ is wrong. Why should it be? And congratulations on your single-handed victory."

Anne flinched at the bitterness in her tone. "The whole team won the debate, you know that. We worked together. Flawlessly, to my surprise," she said bluntly.

Claire smiled mockingly. "Perhaps you weren't listening to my father. He congratulated the winners, didn't he? No doubt Gregory and Andrew were congratulated handsomely too," she said bitterly. "There's always someone better, according to my father."

Anne was bewildered. "Claire, he complimented the team- everyone who was involved."

"But not me _personally_ ," she said, her blue eyes glittering. "He's so very proud of his students, Anne- all except _me_. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to be invisible to your own father?"

A curious look crossed Anne's face. "I do understand being invisible," she said with caution. "Claire, why would he not be proud of you? You did well tonight. You hold your own in every class you are in. Why would you undervalue that?"

"Because it will never equal what my brothers can do," Claire said viciously, slamming her notebook down. "I outperformed every last one of them- and my father _still_ wishes I attended St Mary's Ladies Academy, instead of his own hallowed halls. He doesn't believe women should be educated with men- or didn't you see his hand in the debate topic? The only reason he allowed me to come here was that my mother begged him to let me- and because _I_ asked him if it was hypocritical to not allow his own daughter to come when his college passed the vote to accept female students."

Anne set her satchel on the table, her voice even. "Well, you are here now, Claire. Your father is not your only teacher- and your results speak for themselves. Can that not be enough, even if he does disapprove?"

The younger woman gave a bitter laugh. " _Please_. You're hardly an expert on parents."

Anne flinched as if she had been struck. "That was uncalled for."

Claire turned to Anne, her look cold. "Well, if you were hoping I would become one of your simpering friends after working together, you'll be disappointed." She turned away again, twitching on her jacket.

Anne watched her curiously, and took a step closer to the frustrated woman.

"Claire- why do you waste so much of your energy on me?"

A blank stare met her. "I beg your pardon?"

"The article you wrote- the gossip that you have gone out of your way to stir up for Gilbert and I- your attempt to make me look bad before other people. Why waste so much vitriol on me? What is the value?"

An unkind laugh followed. "I'm afraid I don't follow you. Do you think _you_ are the centre of my concerns?"

Anne's look was shrewd. "Claire, I am aware that you don't particularly care for me. You do not need to. So why waste your time trying to bait me?"

She was never sure what prompted Claire to answer her this time- but suddenly, the floodgates opened. "Because wherever I have gone since first year, you are always there before me," Claire hissed. "In class, socially- _everything_ comes so easily to you. Have you ever struggled to attain anything you wanted?"

Anne's lips tightened. "You make an awful lot of assumptions, Miss Hallett."

" _Really_? The top of our classes, the friend of Philippa Gordan- not to mention the teachers and men fawning all over you. What did you do to deserve that?"

Anne's head lifted, and her grey eyes were clear. "Claire, I won't apologise for working hard. Neither will I apologise for my grades, my friends or my life. If you would only put your jealousy behind you, you would find that you had everything you needed as well. _Everything_ worth having is worth the struggle. What are you willing to contend with to succeed? Your father's disapproval?"

Claire spun on her heel to face Anne. "And what were _you_ willing to do? Compromise Gilbert in the hope that he would be foolish enough to have you?"

A rage that Anne had not felt in some time crossed her pale face. "You may say what you like about me, Miss Hallett- but you will _not_ bring my husband into this."

Claire snarled. " _Fine_. It's _you_ that should have been expelled, last November."

"And yet that has nothing to do with you- or anyone else here at Redmond," Anne said heatedly. "When will you realise that I am not your competition? Your own success should be enough for you. And you aren't wrong- there _is_ always someone better, Claire. If it's not me, it will be someone else. Students will come along after us who will eclipse all of our records- and in the end, it only matters how we steward our talents while we were here."

A subtle change crossed Claire's face, and she stilled in the suddenly quiet room. "That was my father's commencement speech last year."

Anne's chin lifted, her eyes watchful. "He's a good teacher," she said, her voice becoming softer. "Who- might perhaps struggle to express his pride in his daughter." Anne shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "Perhaps he fears playing favourites with you."

Claire scoffed. "You can't claim to understand him, Miss Shirley. Not even my mother would."

An odd smile crossed Anne's face at the old name. "You know, Claire, if you can't manage my married name, perhaps you should just stick with _Anne_."

"I told you, I won't end up as your friend."

Her blunt words made Anne chuckle. "Perhaps not. At this point, I would settle for armed neutrality."

Against her will, Claire's lips curled upwards. "Do you see a need to remain armed, then?"

"I imagined I was consulting your wishes, not mine," Anne said easily. "You are a formidable colleague, Claire."

Claire hesitated, and her tone was gruff as she gathered her belongings. "You as well- Anne Blythe."

The pair jumped as the door to the amphitheatre opened again, and Anne's face broke into a relieved smile to see Gilbert crossing to her with his long-legged stride, and before she could alert him to Claire's presence he caught her up in his arms.

"Darling, you were marvellous!" he said proudly, swinging her around and giving her a sound kiss on the lips. "I would swear that you won the whole thing by yourself."

Anne turned to see Claire stiffen behind him and she spoke to her husband softly. "Thank you, Gil. You know Miss Hallett, of course."

Instantly alert, Gilbert turned to see the other girl, keeping his arm around Anne's waist. "Miss Hallett, forgive my rudeness- I didn't see you there."

" _Clearly_."

Gilbert straightened up, his look suddenly cool. "The team was exceptional, tonight. I thought that your arguments were impeccable. Your speech was excellent too, Miss Hallett- although you let the audience rattle you at the end."

Claire gave him an artificial smile. "The audience is my father, Mr Blythe."

Gilbert chanced a glance at Anne, and in her grey eyes, he could see her pleading with him to tread lightly.

"Well, you did fine until you looked at him," he said carefully. "You should have more confidence in your ability- and you shouldn't let the opposing team see your insecurities."

Claire picked up her bag, giving Anne a measured glance. "Apparently so. Mr Blythe, Mrs Blythe, I'll leave you to your celebrations," she said crisply, and she swept from the room.

As the door closed behind her, Gilbert turned to Anne, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. "Anne, what just happened there?"

She handed her satchel to him and linked her arm through his free one, a slight smile on her face. "A crack, I believe," she said tiredly. "We shall see. And now, sir, I believe that you promised me tea."

Gilbert grinned. "Tea it is. I even have a teacake waiting for us at home- bakery, of course. I didn't want to chance baking on such an auspicious occasion."

* * *

Outside, the spring evening was fragrant, and Anne lifted her nose in pleasure at the scent of the cherry blossoms. She found herself talking freely, now that the pressure of the debate was behind her. "You know, it's been three years since you and I saw the White Way of Delight in bloom, Gil. And it will be a few more before we can see it again, I suppose." She stooped to pick up a fallen blossom, smiling at the fragile flower. "That was my first experience of Avonlea, really. Matthew drove me home from the station to Green Gables through the cherry blossoms- most likely wondering who this strange girl was who kept talking at him- and having the nerve to rename places he had lived in for sixty years."

Gilbert turned to see the shadow on her face and slipped his arm around her comfortingly. "He knew you as his girl from the start, Anne."

She gave him a wistful smile. "It's almost been five years since we lost him," she said softly. "It's awful- but I don't picture him at Green Gables any longer- only Marilla, Mrs Lynde and the twins. Somehow, I can't imagine him living with them all, there- and it feels disloyal to have moved on so completely."

Gilbert pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "It's not, love." He gave her a sideways glance then. "I'm trying to imagine him there when we told my parents and Marilla about our wedding," he said slyly.

Anne pulled away from him with a surprised laugh. "You _do_ know that he thought I could do no wrong," she teased him, making him smile.

"So I would have been in trouble for compromising his little girl, then."

Anne smiled, her eyes wistful. "Matthew would have heard us out- and I wouldn't have let you take the blame alone, Gil."

Gilbert bent down to kiss her cheek. "Don't forget that he would have seen the past five years of our friendship along with Marilla, Anne. Maybe he wouldn't have been so surprised."

Anne blinked, wanting to push away the rising emotion in her chest. She chuckled, then, touched a gloved finger to a tear in the corner of her eye. "Then perhaps Mrs Lynde wouldn't have been there to tell us that I'd allowed you to get carried away by your lust."

Her eyes twinkled as Gilbert almost tripped over his feet at her statement. "For Pete's sake, Anne, give me some warning before you do that! I'd forgotten that little aside."

Anne took his hand, and the two of them continued their walk. " _I_ didn't," she said dryly. "And she told me that this summer that we are going to have a very serious talk."

Even under the street lamps, she could see that Gilbert had paled. "About-"

"Apparently so."

Gilbert was silent for a few minutes, as they strolled, and Anne left him to his thoughts, seeing the slight frown on his face. They walked down the pathway beside the boarding house, or the Ivy Passage, as Anne had taken to calling it, the green leaves now almost completely covering the brick fence. As they reached their little home, some instinct prompted Gilbert to hesitate on the steps.

"Anne, can you promise me something?"

"I'm unlikely to commit to a blind promise."

"That's my girl," Gilbert said, amused. He sighed and removed his hat from his head. "We haven't talked about this- for really good reasons. And I don't want to talk about it till we're ready. But it's not going to stop _others_ from talking to us."

Anne turned to him, her eyes bright in the light of the half-moon. "I don't understand," she began, when he cut her off, his hazel eyes showing his worry.

"Promise me that you'll talk to me when others try to tell you what sex is like." Anne's face flushed, and Gilbert caught her hand, half-afraid that she would flee. "I'm not saying now," he said firmly. "But I've got a fair idea about what the older women of our town will say- and it's not good. Just- please don't settle it in your heart without talking to me. I don't want the kind of marriage where it's something you are afraid of- or something you hate. We promised that we'd work through everything together." He saw her pale, and almost cringed.

 _One step back…._

Anne drew in a shaking breath, wishing she'd never brought up Mrs Lynde's talk. She saw, however, the strain on the face that was becoming dearer to her all the time- rather frighteningly so- and she made herself nod. "We did promise that." She swallowed, summoning her courage. "Alright. I'll talk to you about it when they do."

Gilbert let out a deep sigh. "Thank you. I just hated the idea of them scaring you, and you not feeling that you could tell me-"

Anne had recovered her equilibrium by now and placed her hand over his mouth. Her eyes twinkled. "You _made_ your point, Gil. Now stop talking about it, or you will make our celebration tea awkward." She pulled her hand away, only to see his eyes darken teasingly.

"Do that to me again and I'll bite it," Gilbert advised, pulling his keys from his pocket, clearly glad to put the subject behind them. He helped Anne off with her jacket inside, and she moved to light the table lamp with a yawn. Gilbert was placing the kettle on the stove when he felt her behind him again and turned to see her grey eyes watching him, her cheeks faintly pink.

"May I ask you something?" Gilbert tightened his hands on the dishcloth and nodded. "You seemed to indicate that there was another point of view than the one I will no doubt receive from Mrs Lynde."

Gilbert's hands stilled. "Yes," he breathed.

"Where- where does the other point of view come from?" she asked quietly.

Gilbert's cheeks heated, and he studied the folds of her deep blue skirt with apparent interest. "That would be my parents." He saw her confused look, and he shrugged wryly. "You aren't the only one who got lectured over Christmas."

Anne paled, her eyes enormous. "You mean they- they _told_ you?"

He straightened up, his mouth twisting in amusement. "You mean hitting their only son with all the facts he never wanted to know about how to have a satisfying physical relationship well into your sixties? Yes. I wanted to cut my ears off."

Anne clasped her hands together, trying to hold back her laughter as she watched his lean hand ruffle his curls sheepishly. A sudden change crossed her face then, and she sobered as their eyes met. "Gilbert, I don't mean to be indelicate- or impolite- but was that just your father's viewpoint?"

He moved to take her hands in his own, needing her to understand. "No. It was both of them. I-I would guess that they are a rather remarkable couple, actually. And my mother assured me that we needed to take our time, and show respect- it's meant to be an equal partnership between us- especially that side of marriage."

Anne's cheeks were hot, but she nodded. "Perhaps I should talk to your mother, someday."

 _Two steps forward._

"I'm sure she'd be honoured if you did." Gilbert released her then, making an effort to come back to normal. "Well, not to play the complaining housewife, but this tea won't improve by stewing- can you get the cake from the pantry?"

Gilbert felt his heart settle as she moved to assist him, and he was soon carrying a loaded tray to their kitchen table, to see Anne slipping her shoes off under the chair beside him. His eyes followed the movement of her slender hands as she poured the tea for them, her pearl ring glimmering in the lamplight. She seemed more tranquil than he was, and he looked up when she spoke his name.

"You _do_ realise what will happen if I try and escape Mrs Lynde's lecture, don't you?"

"What's that?"

Anne's smile was devilish. "She'll come for _you_ next, Gil."

* * *

Less than a week before April examinations were due to begin, Anne came out of the bedroom in a costume that made her husband fall comically silent. His eyes raked over her appearance, and Anne turned on the spot so that he could see her clothing for the Masquerade that the Lambs were hosting that evening.

"You're a gypsy!"

Anne smiled. "At Phil's suggestion. She is wildly jealous about not attending this party, you know."

Gilbert shook his head, a grin on his face. "It was a good suggestion," he said reverently. Anne had left her red curls to cascade over her shoulder, and her bright blue skirt was full. The loose white blouse she wore drew his eyes at once to her pretty neckline, and she had wrapped a colourful scarf around her hips- as she turned he felt his knees weaken, seeing the contours of her form in an entirely new way. "Anne-girl, you look wonderful."

She chuckled, her cheeks pink. "I don't know what Mrs Lynde would make of this costume- I rather fancy Marilla would have something to say about it too."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the filmy, ruffled sleeves gathered at her slender wrists. "But it's so pretty."

She stepped closer to him to resume buttoning his cuffs, unaware that his heart rate had increased at the proximity of her chest to his- _come on Blythe, eyes up_ , he thought desperately. It was growing harder to ignore the intimacy of their life together, now that Anne was becoming more comfortable with him. She would sit beside him on the sofa when she had readied for bed, allowing herself the luxury of a cup of tea while he finished his work. More than once he had looked across to see her tucked into the corner of the chair, her book on her lap as she watched the fire dreamily. He'd never dared to give much thought to the proportions of her figure before- it was all beautiful, all perfect, in his mind- and yet the reality of her small curves dumbfounded him. In vain he tried to not stare, however, her evident lack of corset late in the late evenings made him feel oddly dizzy as he strove to remain respectful, and not let on how deeply she affected him.

Mornings were every bit as difficult as he had first supposed they would be. He had tried to alleviate the problem by rising earlier than she did, however, it was rarely effective when the first thing he saw when she walked out was her curly hair tied back with a ribbon, and a delightfully sleepy look in warm, grey eyes. Most mornings he made time for a brisk run outside, rain or shine. Anne teased him about being too concerned with his physical appearance- was he so afraid to gain a few extra pounds? Gilbert sighed, rubbing his face in chagrin. All it took these days was to see her breasts lift as she stretched her slender arms, and he was a gone man.

"Are you almost ready now?" Anne asked him softly, sensing that he was rather distracted.

Gilbert turned to her with a return of his grin. "I am- are you sure that _you_ are?"

Anne chuckled, her look dry. "For the last time, _yes_. Stay away from any unattended punch bowl- and do not dance with anyone who has been hanging over it. Don't go outside for a stroll alone, and under no circumstances engage Phillip Brown in a conversation. Gil, these _are_ your fraternity brothers, aren't they?"

He laughed, pulling on the long blue coat Anne had found in the theatre's costume room, a wooden sword strapped to his side. "Yes- and that means I know them better than you do. They're good fellows, things just tend to get out of hand later in the evening, that's all."

Anne looked up at him curiously. "And you never got involved in any of that, in your misspent youth?"

"You mean two years ago?" Gilbert asked dryly. "No. I worked too hard to get here- and there were people I didn't want to let down."

Anne tipped her head on one side, studying him. "Your parents?"

"Oh, lots of people. Mother and Dad, Miss Stacey;" he paused for a moment, his eyes on the pink enamel heart in the hollow of her throat. "-and _you_."

Anne looked up at him in shock. "Me?"

Gilbert hedged slightly and shrugged. "I didn't want to do anything that made you think less of me."

Her look softened. "Did you think I would, then?"

"It wouldn't have been worth the risk," was all he would say in response, and Anne shook her head in some amazement.

"I shouldn't really be surprised," she said softly. "You were always the gentleman your mother raised. Although it didn't keep you out of an apron all those years ago- I suppose now I will get to meet those who are responsible for your initiation."

Gilbert grinned, standing up to take her hand in his. "Better than that, Anne- they get to meet _you_."

* * *

The Dennison Hotel in Kingsport was ablaze with colour and sound when Anne and Gilbert entered the ballroom, and for a moment he stopped to let her take the spectacle in. Costumes of every type swam around the room, men and women of all ages mingling happily. He looked down at her surprised face and grinned.

"And you were worried about your costume not fitting in!"

Anne shook her head. "You can see why," she commented wryly. "I look decidedly simple next to the costumes some of these women are wearing." Her eyes roamed around the room, and she began to laugh. "Good heavens, is that someone wearing a lace mantilla under the palms?"

Gilbert squeezed her hand, his eyes only for her. "You're perfect as you are, sweetheart."

"Ha! I told you your outfit would be wonderful, Anne," a merry voice said behind her.

Anne turned to see Stella on Timothy Peterson's arm, and she kissed her friend's cheek with a smile. "You look wonderful, yourself, Stella."

Stella preened, looking down at the long, crimson kimono embroidered with tiny blossoms. "Thank you- Father brought it for me on one of his business trips last year- I had a feeling it would come in handy someday."

Anne turned to stare at Timothy's black robes, new spectacles making him seem oddly familiar. "And who are you, exactly?"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at his friend. "My guess is Professor Thorne. Someone always dresses up as one of the teachers."

"Spot on," Timothy said cheerfully. He took Stella's arm in his and grinned. "Come on, I want to check out the competition."

Anne lost count of the number of people she met that evening- distinguished alumni, current Lambs and various faculty members. She was startled to realise that people were keen to meet her, as young Blythe's _wife_. When the third such gentleman commented on this before moving off, Anne turned to her husband, her eyebrows high as he led her onto the dance floor again, after assuring her that no one here cared how often they danced together.

"Am I your trophy wife, Gilbert? You never mentioned that."

He began to laugh. "Anne, you couldn't pull that off successfully if you tried. You'd end up killing me."

She gave him a smug look. "I really would."

He shrugged the shoulder her hand rested on, moving the two of them in small circles on the dance floor. "Well, I'm apparently the first Lamb to be married at college," he commented. "They were all surprised, of course, but our president was fascinated- he thought it all very romantic."

Anne's eyes twinkled under the electric lights. "Of course it was. Your shoulder was a very sweet touch."

"As was the colour of your face when Hallett walked into that tent."

Anne smiled, looking around her at the elegantly costumed people. A fat friar swung by with a young lady dressed in the brightest yellow, and in the distance, she saw a group of elegant cloaked and masked individuals talking together closely. She turned back to see Gilbert watching her, his face content.

"You know, when you smile like that, you really look as if you could be a pirate, Gil."

"I'm too well-groomed to be a real pirate, don't you think?"

Anne chuckled. "Perhaps you could be the wicked pirate king. Or one who _could_ be wicked, but _wouldn't_ \- that's probably the Blythe in you. Surely _pirate kings_ could afford to take exactly seventeen minutes a day to shave."

"I like to be thorough."

Gilbert pulled her closer to the sound of the music, relishing the time to simply hold her. He looked down at her, a slight smile on his face.

"Do you think we are making some headway into the romantic?" he asked softly. Anne didn't answer immediately, and Gilbert sobered, moving slower. "Anne?"

She stopped him a gentle look. "I should say we're doing very well."

He almost stopped moving then, his brow creased. "You deserve to be courted properly, Anne."

Anne pulled back so that he could see her clearly, her red curls cascading over one shoulder. "You make us take the time to enjoy ourselves," she said softly. "You pick flowers just for me. We are out dancing together on a beautiful spring evening in a beautiful ballroom. It's- lovely. If this is courtship, then I should think myself a very happy girl," she teased. She frowned then, her grey eyes on him as they swayed together. "Truthfully, I didn't realise what a romantic you were, Mr Blythe."

Gilbert grinned at her, pulling her close again. "You know me, Anne. I love to prove you wrong."

* * *

It was late at night as Anne and Gilbert walked home through the empty streets, entirely absorbed into their own world.

"I still can't believe that you didn't know who you were talking to!" he exclaimed.

Anne pulled her hand from his as she turned to face him, her pretty nose turned up teasingly. "It was a masquerade ball, Gil. And I had no idea that so many of the Redmond Board were Lambs."

Gilbert quirked his eyebrow. "Why do you think I joined them? It wasn't the bonnets. Some of the most prominent people who came through Redmond were a part of the fraternity. You were talking with some of the board members who will be deciding our future in a year's time."

Anne looked vaguely ill at that. "I'm glad I didn't know, then. We were discussing eighteenth-century literature, of all things."

Gilbert clasped her hand in his again, a big smile on his face. "I was so proud of you tonight- everyone was asking who you were. Professor Millard and his wife pronounced you charming- and I swear that they like me better because of you."

Anne chuckled, breathing in the fresh breeze from the harbour. "They liked you well enough before, Gil. I _did_ overhear myself being referred to as 'Blythe's young red-headed wife', tonight," Anne said, her voice droll. "I chose to not hold it against them, for your sake."

He grinned, pulling her toward their street. "I love your red hair. I want our children to have it."

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she pushed the heavy curls behind her shoulders. "They may not thank you for that."

He gave her a playfully warning look. "And we're going to teach them to love themselves the way they are, _aren't_ we?"

"Of course," Anne said flippantly. "They might well inherit their father's boldness-"

"Their _mother's_ tendency to daydream-"

"Your ability to disturb everyone around you-"

Gilbert swung her around into the pathway that led to their house and playfully drew her closer, until she rested against the wall of the boardinghouse. "Oh, so I'm _disturbing_ , am I?"

Anne chuckled, her cheeks pink. "Very."

There was a moment's hesitation, and then he bent down, his lips brushing hers softly. Anne's lashes fluttered down at his touch, and she felt her skin heating. How in the world did he do this to her? Unconsciously she raised her face to his, and she saw a little smile on his face that quickly disappeared as he pulled himself even closer, his breath warm on her mouth as he kissed her more firmly, the warm, familiar smell of him enveloping her senses. She was lightheaded as she kissed him back, her hands shyly finding anchor against his chest- and as his kiss deepened, his hand slipped into her soft curls, brushing the skin exposed by the pretty, white blouse. Anne caught her breath at the unexpected touch, and Gilbert froze. "Sweetheart-"

She shook her head, trying to smile. "No, no, it's fine- you just startled me."

Gilbert drew in a shaking breath and straightened up, looking into eyes that were anxious, but still met his bravely. "Is it time to go home?" he asked softly.

Anne paused, and after a brief hesitation rose up to kiss him chastely. "Yes. Let's go home."

 _Two steps forward, one step back._

Gilbert took her hand, feeling her fingers curl over his own. For a moment they stood still in indecision, Anne's face heating.

"You know," Anne said quietly, "You _do_ do that rather well."

He blinked, feeling the smile stretch across his tired face. "Really?"

Anne nodded and stepped away, her scarf trailing behind her as she cast a shy look at him over her shoulder in the moonlight.

"You too, sweetheart," he said, almost too softly for her to hear before following his wife to their home.


	21. Chapter 21, Things Unpoken

The rain had been steadily falling for an hour when Gilbert heard the front door open in early May. He dropped his book to help Anne with the basket of washing, now protected by a sheet that had most certainly been dry two minutes earlier.

Anne gave a sigh of relief, wiping the rain from her face. "Thank you- Mrs Whitley offered me with an umbrella, however, I couldn't carry it with the basket."

Gilbert followed Anne into the bedroom, a bundle of letters in his hand. "And does she really want-"

Anne nodded, a slight smile on her face. "She does. You know that Mrs Whitley's requests are more like commands." She began to fold her underclothes and his, not realising that she did so now with no embarrassment whatsoever.

Mrs Whitley had come across Anne two days before the April exams were due to begin, balancing a textbook on the windowsill above the laundry tubs and muttering odd sentences aloud while she scrubbed. Within minutes she had taken over her work, shoo-ing the young woman out the door and saying that she was to return for tea in one hour, _sharp_.

Gilbert had found Anne at their kitchen table afterward, teary over the strain of examinations, last minute assignments and feeling as if she couldn't keep up with the housework- and Gilbert was already doing his share of it. He had done his best to make her laugh, and to assure her that they had a holiday coming soon- of sorts- and they would come through the lot without a scratch. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and when it was time, Anne made her way to the boardinghouse kitchen to sit down with Mrs Whitley, who proceeded to inform her that she would be taking over the young couple's washing immediately. Anne was somewhat taken aback by this generosity and protested that it was really no trouble- until she thought of the basket of dirty washing that was almost full again, and her face crumpled against the lack of sleep and an essay that just didn't want to be written. Anne would later blush in embarrassment when she admitted to Gilbert how she had broken down in front of their landlady, and the way the older woman had called her _poppet_ and told her that everything would be well. Of course, Anne could not know that Mrs Whitley's mind had strayed to her only daughter somewhere on a prairie in Saskatchewan- she only knew that she kept finding unexpected kindness at the hands of the older woman, well beyond what was showed to a tenant.

After Anne had discussed the situation with Gilbert, they went back to Mrs Whitley with the suggestion that they would be grateful for her assistance- if she allowed them to pay her a small fee each week. They both wished to be independent in the cottage, however, Anne's tears convinced Gilbert that they needed to accept help. The resulting agreement was satisfactory to both parties, and Gilbert had to admit that he didn't miss the long hours over the tub trying to clean his collars either.

Exams were almost finished, now, and as far as the pair were aware, they were holding their own. Anne declared in disgust that she now knew far more than she ever wished to know about the inner workings of Freud's mind- she believed that the great psychologist had some- er- _issues_ \- that needed dealing with. Gilbert would only retort that knowing the inner workings of the human body were far more useful- who didn't want to know what a spleen was?

Gilbert sat back on the sofa later that same evening, his book pushed to one side as he sorted through the letters on his lap.

"What news from the future Mrs Wright?"

Anne settled beside him, her bare feet resting beside him on the lounge, making him smile when her toes brushed against his thigh. He watched her snuggle down against the cushions, the plentiful pages in front of her. "Her bridesmaid is annoying her terribly," she said, a wistful smile on her face. "The wedding is in four weeks, now. Clarissa insists that her collar is too high, the hemline is too low, and the colour clashes with her engagement ring. Even Mrs Barry is growing impatient with her."

Gilbert grinned, stretching out his long legs. "Do you think she's forgiven us yet?"

To his chagrin, she sighed. "No, not quite yet. There is hope, though- she did at least comment that _I_ would not behave as Clarissa is. Diana feels that is reason to hope. Oh, Fred is hoping to meet with you before the wedding, apparently- Diana believes he is growing a little nervous after waiting for so long for the wedding, and she is sure that you can help him stay calm."

There was a little smile on his face then, followed by a short sigh that Gilbert didn't even try to explain. He turned to see Anne lower the letter, her brow knitted.

I can't believe it's almost the summer," she added softly. "We'll be going home so soon."

Gilbert grinned. "Home in our own woods in a month, oh Dryad. Even if it is just for a few days." He saw the shadow cross her face, and turned to face her. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Anne gave him a resigned look. "Your mother's letter said that Marilla has been having more headaches, lately."

Gilbert gave her knee a squeeze. "I know. She also said that Mrs Lynde and the twins are looking after her well- they would have told you if it was serious."

Anne nodded, and chuckled wryly. "Not that Marilla would ever admit to needing help. Or even that she wanted me to come home," she added quietly.

Gilbert slid his hand into hers comfortingly. "Soon, love. Marilla knows you're coming." He saw the downcast look in her eyes, and hesitated. "Anne- what if you _didn't_ work this summer?"

Anne blinked at him in shock. "Gil, we have tuition, textbooks, other expenses- we worked it all out months ago."

"Maybe we could look at the figures again," he said mulishly.

At this Anne's eyes blazed in anger. "No, Gil. I know where you are heading with this- _you_ off working, while I spend a nice summer back at home. I won't do it."

Gilbert took her hand in both of his, aiming to be at his most persuasive. "You'd get time to see everyone. You could spend a few months at Green Gables- Marilla would be thrilled to have you home- although my mother will fight for a share of you too. You could properly rest, too," he said bluntly. "You're getting tired, and don't even bother trying to deny that."

Anne glared at him. " _No_."

Her husband folded his arms, his eyebrows rising. "So- no discussion about this, then?"

"We don't need to discuss it. We had an agreement, Gil," Anne stated, her eyes green. "We are _partners_. I am not sitting around while you work yourself into the ground this summer for both of us, I will find work as well. There are summer programs in some of the bigger schools on the island- Stella suggested that I write to them first. _I am working_."

Gilbert scowled at her, before sitting back on the sofa. "Of course, I would marry the most independent woman alive," he grumbled. "Are we going to be having this same argument when we start a family?"

Anne chuckled, seeing the slight twinkle in his eye. "No. I will resign myself to becoming a lady of leisure- _you_ will be the breadwinner while _I_ raise our many children."

Gilbert began to laugh, a warmth stirring in his belly at her words. "Many?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Well, as many as it takes for them to not be only children."

"Theoretically, that's just two," Gilbert said slyly, dodging the hand that sought to slap his arm. "But many sounds nicer." He studied her in the low light for a moment, and asked something that had been bothering him. "Anne- later on, are you really prepared to give all this up?" he said carefully.

Anne gave him a curious look. "The Mushroom?"

"No. I mean- giving up college, a career," Gilbert said slowly. "It's what everyone does, back home. When Anne only looked at him, he exhaled. "I suppose I wondered if the expectations of that life might have been one of the reasons you wanted to leave Avonlea- and why you didn't plan on marrying anytime soon."

Anne drew in a breath, her eyes on the flickering fire. "I won't lie- it did have a bearing," she admitted. "I wanted to experience more in life, I wanted to learn and grow. I didn't want what Diana had placed before her." She saw a sudden look of outrage that crossed Gilbert's face and hurried to correct his impression of her words. "No, I don't mean _Fred_ , Gil; Di adores him and wants nothing more than to be his wife. I meant a life that was defined by what her mother said a woman and a wife had to be." He calmed then, and she continued. "You _know_ that she wanted to go to Queens with us. Oh, not for the teaching, exactly, but for the adventure. She has waited so patiently for Fred- and in the meantime she has done _everything_ her parents expected of her, even giving up the schooling she loved. I- I couldn't have done that," Anne said slowly. "At least in Avonlea, I could be a teacher- I was there to be with Marilla, as I should have been; I was studying with you- I had a purpose. I couldn't have existed merely crocheting doilies, and learning the fine art of housekeeping. Not without giving space for my own dreams- not without wanting to go further. Is that so terrible?"

Gilbert slipped his arm around her, his manner gentle. "Of course not. You know that I was the same." She looked up at him in regret, and he smiled sadly. "Come on, Anne, picture me staying home to be a farmer. That's what Avonlea expected me to do as a farmer's only son."

She studied him and then shook her head. "You would have been miserable, Gil."

Gilbert turned so that his lips brushed her soft red curls, and sighed. "I needed broader horizons too- and like Marilla, mother and Dad made sure that I could leave when it was time. You and I are right where we should be."

For a moment Anne closed her eyes, enjoying the quiet moment between them. When she spoke, at last, her voice was decided.

"When it comes time to give up this college life, in a year's time- I will have done what I set out to do. I am armed with everything I need to continue growing- curiosity, the ability to learn- and there is always a bend in the road," she said lightly. "Somehow, I think that you and I have everything we need."

Gilbert smiled and turned to recline on the sofa, pulling her to rest against him as they watched the gentle firelight. He suddenly chuckled. "I'm going to remember this moment, you know," he said, and even without looking Anne knew that his hazel eyes were twinkling. "When you and I have seven children running around our house, when the chaos is at its worst, I'm going to remind you that you gave up the academic world voluntarily."

"And _that_ is when we will take the children home to their grandparents for a visit."

Gilbert's smile was huge, and he let out a deep sigh. "So you're determined to work this summer."

"I will not dignify that comment with an answer," Anne stated, stretching lazily against his side. "I've written to the Maritime school board and some schools here, I just have to wait and see. You need to trust that everything will be fine."

He scowled, watching Rusty complacently curl up on his old cap on the other chair. Which, of course, was why Anne had suggested mildly that he should hang it on the hook each time. "I _am_ trusting that- but I don't like our future being as nebulous as it is right now. And I really don't want to leave you."

Anne turned around on the chair to face him. "Gilbert, we knew from the start that the next few years would look different to everyone else."

He grimaced. "I know that."

"Then you need to accept that we are doing this," she said, exasperated. "You need to let me work with you."

He gave her a disbelieving glance even as he began to laugh. "Anne Blythe, as if I ' _let_ ' you do anything."

She gave him a smug smile. "Just you remember that."

* * *

The conversation was on Gilbert's mind over the next few days, and it was only a week later that he met Anne at her class with another bundle of letters in his hand- including one addressed to Anne from a school on the island. He walked into the classroom as he had so many months ago to see Anne conversing with Professor Winston, and at the back of the room, Roy was lingering over his papers. Gilbert gave him a bland smile before moving up the aisle, wondering if he was imagining the dark blue eyes boring into the back of his head.

Anne turned to him with a smile, however, he could see a strain on her face, and came to her side in concern.

The professor turned to him easily.

"Mr Blythe, good to see you in our part of the world again. I must say, the faculty are certainly happy with your work this year." At the way the couple glanced at each other, the older man chuckled. "We all like to brag about our favourites. Your name comes up at the staff meeting occasionally. Have you picked your subjects for your final year?"

Gilbert grinned. "Yes, sir. The science faculty will get most of me, then."

Professor Winston looked at him curiously. "So we won't get you then either? There's nothing wrong with being a good all-rounder, you know. As I recall you were second only to your wife in English, in your first year."

Gilbert saw the smile on Anne's face, and his eyes twinkled. "That was because she corrected most of my essays, sir."

The man turned to Anne in surprise, and she shook her head, chuckling. "That isn't true, Gil- I only helped you make your arguments better."

"Yes. By _arguing_ with them," he muttered good-naturedly.

Professor Winston took up his bag, smiling. "I would expect no less, Gilbert. Well, must be off- Anne, do think about what I said, won't you?"

He moved away, and Gilbert turned to his wife in surprise, seeing an odd look cross her face.

Anne shook her head at the unasked question and took his hand. "Later, Gil. Let's go."

Anne carefully kept the conversation light as they walked home, domestic concerns taking over once they had arrived at the Mushroom. There were chores to be done, and a meal to prepare, and as the two of them moved around the house in their normal pattern Anne found herself pausing to watch Gilbert at the stove, teasing Rusty with a square of ham. She turned back to the broom in her hand wistfully, somehow wishing that they could remain as they were for the summer.

* * *

That night, after an uncharacteristically restless Anne insisted that the dishes could wait, the pair sat on the floor before the small fire to examine the mail that would decide the course of their plans for the summer.

"Well, I've got news," Gilbert said reluctantly after a few minutes, looking up from a yellow sheaf of official-looking papers. "Mr Druthers doesn't need anyone for the whole summer at the paper- he said he would give me what work he could, however, he was contacted by a colleague- another editor in Halifax who wants someone for the whole summer. He recommended me for the job."

Anne paled slightly. "Halifax?"

Gilbert sighed. "It's just a few hours away by train- and the pay is good. If you were working here I could come home on the weekends."

Anne winced. "Well, as it turns out, I had a letter too. It's not from here- it's a position on the island."

Gilbert's face fell, however, he was swift to push that aside, and took her hand with a steadying smile. "You'll be closer to home, at least."

Anne nodded, handing him the letter to read for himself.

"Valley Road- is that in the east?" he said after a minute, frowning.

Anne nodded. "South-east, actually. Stella's hometown is somewhere nearby, I think."

Gilbert rose to follow Anne back to the kitchen while she put on some tea for them, and he leant against the counter reading. "Esther Haythorne is the regular teacher- why do I know that name?" he said, puzzled, and Anne's eyes sparkled with fun.

"That's because she was at Queens with us in the first year classes," she said lightly. "She was a tiny thing, you remember, highly nervous, and she fainted when-"

"That's right- when Frank Stockley put that mouse on her desk," Gilbert interrupted, beginning to laugh.

Anne shook her head at him reprovingly. "You really can't blame her, Gil, she didn't grow up on a farm as we did. And shame on you for teasing her back then- didn't you learn _anything_ with me?"

"An eighteen-year-old boy is still a boy, Anne. And Frank was the one to do that, not me," Gilbert protested as she pulled the cups out of the cupboard.

"Oh, _I_ remember you laughing," Anne commented caustically, before giving a sudden squeak of surprise when Gilbert suddenly backed her against the counter, a teasing smile on his face as he placed a hand on either side of her.

"Of course I did," he said smugly. " _You_ were watching." There was a slight sound from her throat toward the negative, however, he only grinned. "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I wanted your attention, Anne. It _was_ a surprise to find that I often got it."

Anne's jaw dropped. "I'm sure you exaggerate," she scoffed, trying to keep the conscious look from her face. "I was merely studying-"

" _Me_ ," Gilbert stated, his eyes twinkling, his nose close enough to brush her cheek. "It wasn't Frank. It was _me_ you were glaring at, while everyone fussed over Esther. Remember?"

Anne turned back to the teapot, her cheeks a dull red, and she suddenly realised that she had miscalculated his proximity again when she felt him close behind her. His hands wrapped around her waist then, a teasing touch that made her skin prickle.

"Would it be so very awful to admit that you were watching me back then?" Gilbert asked in a deceptively soft voice, and she chuckled at the smirk she knew would be on his face. Anne turned in his arms to face him then, her eyes challenging. After six months of marriage, she had learned a few things about relationships between men and women. He did love to rile her up- but then he could be so easily unseated from his complacency.

"Fine. I _was_ watching you then," Anne said coolly. "I was just waiting for you to grow up."

To this, he would only laugh, but she was pleased to see a flush of colour on his brown cheeks as he gave her waist a final squeeze and released her. Anne turned back to the bench to complete the tray, and she sighed as her eyes fell on the letter Gilbert had dropped on the counter. Valley Road was precisely what she had been looking for- a small class who needed her for the summer. Her pink lips tightened, and a faint crease of worry appeared on her brow. Three months was not so long- and yet she had an uneasy feeling that it would feel like the longest summer of her life away from Gilbert.

* * *

The last weeks of the junior year moved swiftly. Exam results were returned in good time, and Gilbert insisted on taking Anne out for dinner to celebrate the two of them receiving excellent marks through the uproar of the past six months. Anne agreed, and on their six-month anniversary, they toasted their results in a little diner nestled between warehouses, hosted by a rotund gentleman who insisted on congratulating them loudly. The evening was a pleasant end to a tumultuous six months, and the pair walked home in the dusk to greet a cat who proudly placed a dead mouse on Gilbert's pillow. Whether or not it was meant as a peace-offering as Anne insisted, Gilbert could be heard warning Rusty that his bed was off-limits- and it was decided that Rusty would be sent to Patty's Place over the summer.

While their classes began to wind down, preparations began in earnest for the close of the year and the beginning of the next. Anne felt somehow detached from the calendar- she found herself looking at the date, wondering at the fact that against all odds, she and Gilbert had survived their junior year. Their tickets home to the island had been purchased, and Anne had written that they would be home two days before the wedding- leaving plenty of time for them to recover from what would be an intensely busy week with the close of classes and the convocation ball for the seniors.

Anne and Gilbert had chosen to stay with the Blythes for the short time they were on the island together. Gilbert would travel to Halifax the day after the wedding, and Anne would go then to Green Gables before she was due to report for her classes at Valley Road. Anne had been the one to suggest the Blythe's house, knowing that she would have the opportunity to travel back to Avonlea once or twice over the summer. Amelia wrote that she would be putting the couple in the spare room together, as Aunt Mary Maria had taken possession of the upstairs bedroom.

 _I am sorry, darlings, John tried to have her move her visit until after you had come- however then she got tears in those big blue eyes, and developed a sudden cough that hadn't been there a minute earlier- and your father caved. Anne, dear, ordinarily I would never want to turn John's family away from the house… she, however, is a different kettle of fish. I'm sure Gilbert can tell you that. I've already had a battle royale with her over not putting my married son and daughter-in-law upstairs in Gilbert's tiny bedroom- she didn't see why I shouldn't give her the spare room, when the pair of you would only be staying with us for a few days. I still plan for you to have a restful time- and so the spare room bed is all yours. I do trust that you will be comfortable in there together- and I think you would not wish to be apart, not when you will miss more than two months over the summer. I am sure you will be glad to have the time together while you can. Speaking of which, I have been given the most darling pattern for a baby's quilt- now, I wonder how much time I would need to complete it for my first grandchild?_

Later, Gilbert would comment that he really should have waited until Anne had finished her tea before reading that last part out loud.

* * *

On a bright, clear afternoon in May Anne took a detour through the park on her way home from classes. She wasn't expecting Gilbert home for some time yet- he had barely had time to see her since he ran out the door for an early class that morning. Of course, he had caused quite a sensation that day by flying past her in the dining hall, pausing only to snatch her to him with one long arm around her waist and giving her a firm kiss before the entire dining hall. He winked as he pulled away, and he and a large plate of sandwiches sailed out of the dining hall only moments later. Had he stayed, he would have seen a decidedly dishevelled Anne smoothing her green dress with a pretty blush on her cheeks and Phil and Priscilla in fits of laughter across the other side of the table from her. Stella carried on eating in unconcern, pausing only to point out mischievously that Anne didn't exactly look _displeased_ at his impromptu greeting- and would someone pass the salt, please?

St John's graveyard was a bower of green that afternoon, and Anne loitered along the pathways, pausing to collect violets that grew along the paths. She stopped underneath one of the willows to sit down, the long fronds curtaining her from the rest of the graveyard.

Anne pulled from her bag a sheaf of notes that was heavily crossed and lined in red. She raised her hand to pull the straw hat from her glossy, red head, resting it back against the trunk with a deep sigh.

It was a little thing, really. Professor Winston had asked to see what she was writing, and she had taken him a short story about a child being raised by an elderly aunt. There were others at home, of course, a short sketch she had written from the roof of the old Copp duck house, found amongst an old box of Story Club manuscripts. The story was pretty, and she smiled again at the memory of Diana peering out from the barn while she stood on a barrel with only an umbrella for protection. Anne had spent time reworking it until she was satisfied- and she had decided to send it away to a magazine over the summer. Other poems and sketches had been worked on in quieter hours over the long winter, some of which she had even allowed Gilbert to read.

Her writing had changed since the disaster that was the Rollings Reliable contest, she had realised with a slight smile. The melancholy heroes who had once only spoken in poetry would not behave thus, any longer. No, they had changed shape as she supposed her ideals had- thus becoming harder and harder to write, as they began to take the shape of someone very familiar to her. It was better to leave the romance for now, she realised, with a confused blush- at least until she had figured out where she stood in the romance that was concerning her most right _now_.

Anne closed her eyes on the spring afternoon, wondering dully what she should do about her story. Professor Winston's reaction to _The House Under the Pines_ had been cautious, and he was modest in his praise- saying that technically, it was quite well done. The character of the older woman was absolutely good, he had told her- brusque, with a softer side hidden from others. For the rest- Professor Winston had handed her back the paper, his hands folded on his desk.

"How do _you_ feel about it, Anne?"

She had stumbled slightly, before lifting her chin. "You asked me to write something real, sir. I was hoping that this story was a beginning."

He gave her an odd look, then. "It feels- disconnected," he said gently. "Almost as if you were writing something you felt you had to write."

Anne stilled herself. "Then clearly, I failed."

There was a slight smile on Emile Winston's face, then. "Anne, if this is the calibre of the work you create when your heart is not involved, then I should like to see what you do when it _is_. It isn't at all bad. However, reading between the lines, you seemed to falter with your main character." He seemed to debate with himself about his next words. "I should like to see more of yourself in this. Great writers take the things in their life that break them- and they write it. They write it to understand themselves. Anne, the character of Sara Walters is the success here: in contrast, your young Isabelle is generic, a blank slate. She doesn't appear to struggle with anything, doesn't make mistakes- and thus we are unable to connect with her."

Anne's eyes were stormy as she ran her hand through the soft grass beside her now, the older man's words echoing in her thoughts. Oh, he was right. She had known that the story had issues- her heart hadn't been in it from the start. Poor Isabelle had more in common with Dora than she did her harum-scarum creator at that age- something Anne had wanted to avoid. Who would want to read about a girl who drowned a mouse in pudding sauce, or scorched the handkerchiefs when she was daydreaming? Who would wish to know the circumstances of an orphan's life before they were adopted?

Anne shivered on the warm afternoon, her mind returning again to the basket under her desk that held the remains of a very different story. She had tried to write it on evenings when Gilbert had been out- and each time had wound up sitting before the desk, her pen frozen, as old memories began to make themselves felt. The heaviness of the buckets of water in six-year-old arms- the whippings she had received when she dropped them. The endless fights and screaming in the homes she had lived in- the chill of the orphanage that was ever present.

Anne wrapped her skirts around her legs tightly. It wasn't something she had ever spoken of to anyone. Marilla had asked questions in the beginning, however, even she had been reluctant to press Anne for details, when she had heard the sparse facts of Anne's previous ten years. It had been enough that she had kept her- and her younger self had been too relieved to find herself amid the new conditions of her life, to reflect back on what she had escaped.

A bird chirped in the tree above Anne, and she looked up, her grey eyes troubled. She had told Gilbert no more than she had told Diana- it hadn't been relevant then, she told herself sternly. She and Diana had grown up side by side- and when the time was right, she and Gilbert had become friends. They had accepted her as she was, loved her imagination and spirit, even when they didn't fully understand her. For ten years she had been surrounded by people who loved her- she had been blessed, and if she had looked back on her childhood, she would have said that she had survived. For weeks she had been plagued by the odd sense that she needed to tell Gilbert something- _anything_ about her past. But why? To see his sympathy, his concern for her? Her chin rose stubbornly. No, she didn't need pity- she wouldn't tell him just to elicit a reaction. She had more pride than that.

The sun had moved lower in the sky when Anne finally rose from the ground, and she picked up her belongings to walk home in the spring afternoon. She unlocked the front door to be greeted by an affectionate Rusty, feeling some guilt in the fact that they would be without him over the summer. He would be fine, of course- and Rusty would no doubt enjoy trouncing the neighbourhood cats around Patty's Place once again. She sighed, pulling off the light cardigan she wore, and raised her hands to unpin the braid wound around the crown of her glossy head.

In the silence of the little house, Anne pulled _The House Under the Pines_ from her satchel. She glanced down at the comments written along the margin, and her lips thinned. She wouldn't do it again- she wouldn't write to please anyone else. In a move that felt mechanical, Anne crossed the room to her desk, opening up the box carefully hidden beneath the dark interior. She pulled out the other manuscript, leafing through the pages with something that bordered on revulsion. She stood up suddenly, moving with purpose to the fireplace where Gilbert had laid some kindling for a fire that had not yet been necessary. Her hands were shaking as she lit a match, and began to place the papers on the growing flame.

Anne watched the edges of the pages crinkle in the fire, and she blinked furiously at the stinging in her eyes.

The past wasn't _relevant_ , now.

It had no power to hurt her unless she chose to remember- and she wouldn't do it any longer. She was here at Redmond where she belonged, and with Gilbert. His strong presence was beside her, and the twisted smile she wanted, no, _needed_ to be in her life. Somehow, he had become her anchor.

It was for the best that he didn't know anything. If he knew, he would view her differently- he had enough to be dealing with as a married college student as it was. The flames fed on the ink-spattered paper, now and then throwing up a word, a sentence that seemed to laugh in derision at her foolishness.

When it was done, she rose and dusted off her skirts, her cheeks pale in the still house. "No more," she said quietly.

* * *

When Gilbert arrived home that evening, eager to see his wife, he didn't question the ash in the grate or the slight skittishness in Anne's manner. He gave her his usual greeting, the two of them falling to work beside each other as was their custom in the evenings. After she had finished her chores in the kitchen Anne suddenly moved to his side, turning her face into his shoulder as long arms wrapped around her tightly. Gilbert held her close without saying anything for a time, wondering at the way his wife clung to him. After a minute he pulled away, his hazel eyes watchful.

"Is everything alright, Anne?"

She shook her head, her eyes focused no higher than his chin. "Of course," she said lightly. "What did you want to do this evening?"

Gilbert could feel a slight tension in her body, and he forced himself to behave naturally. "I don't want to work. We could read together,if you felt up to it."

She smiled, and for just a moment her forehead touched his. "That sounds perfect."

He released her, his look quizzical. "You're sure? You don't want something different?"

Anne surprised him further by raising herself up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, before turning away, her troubled gaze not meeting his.

"No. I want what we have right now."


	22. Chapter 22, Fulcrum

**Chapter 22**

It was late on Thursday afternoon on the last week of college, and Anne stood in their bedroom, her brow puckered with worry with an open suitcase before her. Gilbert wandered into the room to drop a stack of books onto his bed.

"I got it down to five."

Anne looked up from folding her undergarments, her look distracted. "Five what?"

"Books. I'll end up bringing more home with me in any case."

Anne gave him an indulgent smile. "You need to remember your clothes, Gil."

"Hmm," Gilbert mumbled absently, picking up another book that sat beside his bed, sitting down to flip it open. Anne flew to move him with a cry, seeing that he had chosen to sit on several of his shirts, all folded neatly.

"Gilbert Blythe!" she said in exasperation. "Your marks are the envy of everyone at Redmond! You run the student council! You are _more_ than capable of packing your bag, or at least looking out for a pile of clean washing-"

Gilbert took the scolding with a grin. "I just sat down for a minute. I haven't stopped all week, and neither, I might add, have you."

This seemed to be confirmed by the half-crazed look on Anne's face, and she hardly noticed him taking another seat on his bed, pulling her to stand between his knees. "Gilbert, you and I have a full day of classes tomorrow. The dance is tomorrow night, and we leave on Saturday morning for the island! _The week is not yet over!_ "

"I know, I know, sweetheart," he said soothingly. "We still have time, don't we? I can pack in the morning. We've been out almost every night this week, and it's almost the end of the term- surely we have time to relax tonight."

A strangled sound left Anne's throat at this uncharacteristic lack of concern. "We're not away for a week, Gil- we are leaving for three months. We need to give our key to Mrs Whitley; we need to prepare everything!"

"And yet we need time to rest, love. I promise to pack early tomorrow morning."

Anne shook her head at him, a smile nevertheless evident. She touched his cheek lightly. "No, we will pack _tonight_ ," she said, in a firm tone.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, before turning his head to kiss her fingertips. "A compromise. We will pack for _one_ hour tonight before I go and get us our supper, and then we will spend time sitting down before one or both of us collapse from exhaustion. Anything else can wait until tomorrow."

Anne chuckled, her cheeks flushing as she realised how close to him she was standing, held fast by his broad, brown hands. "And what am I supposed to do if you are the one who collapses? Leave you in front of the fire?"

Gilbert rose and gave her a wink. "I'm sure you can think of a way to get me to bed, Anne-girl."

* * *

Later that night, the two of them sat before the fireplace quietly. Gilbert stretched out long legs from his seat on the sofa, with Anne curled up pensively beside him.

"Will you have enough money until the newspaper pays you?" she asked, after a time.

Gilbert turned to her in surprise. "Of course. We worked it all out, didn't we?" He tipped his head back to look at her, deep in thought. "You know, it's not like you to be so worried," he said mildly.

Anne grimaced, her eyes following the flickering flames. "And it's not like _you_ to be so cavalier about preparations. What if we forget something?"

Gilbert didn't point out that he could return if necessary through the summer and slipped his arm around her waist, his look tender. "Come on, what's really worrying you?"

"I- I just wish we could stay here."

Gilbert blinked at her. "Surely if we're wishing anything, it's that we could go home together for three months."

Anne swallowed. "It just seems wrong, somehow. It feels unfaithful of me to be leaving you for so long."

Gilbert pulled back to see her properly. "That's a rather strong word, Anne."

"And it's a rather strong feeling!" she fired back. "And yet I insisted that I do it. I can't imagine Diana, or Mrs Lynde ever agreeing to something like this-"

"Well, what about my mother, Anne?" Gilbert asked. "She did it for three years."

"She _had_ to!" Anne said hotly. "She told me that it killed her to leave you both in Alberta."

Gilbert laid his head back on the sofa with a sigh, bringing his free hand up to rub his eyes. This wasn't the best time for a rational discussion, and he was fully aware of how overtired they both were. Anne had been asked to take part in the graduation ceremony for the senior class the next day, her speech only completed that afternoon. Stella had begged Anne's assistance for the Convocation ball committee when an emergency took one of the volunteers. He'd wondered uneasily if she had been dropping weight- she'd been so tired, of late.

He had met with Professor Daniels that week as well, who had added more books to the list he would take to Halifax with him. Daniels stressed the importance of studying, and of gaining adequate rest- all while holding down a full-time job, and spending almost three months away from his wife. Just how restful did he expect it would be?

Gilbert's parents had written to ask if they were the couple financially- the harvest had been good, and they wanted the young couple to know that they could assist them. Gilbert cringed- he'd shouldered his college expenses so far on his own, as had Anne- and yet he was concerned too. He'd put off replying until he had combed the little blue book that held their household finances thoroughly, asking Anne to double-check it for him as well. In the end, he had written that it wasn't necessary, they had sufficient. He shook off the concern that lingered, sensing that Anne was worried enough for now.

Gilbert turned to Anne in the dim light now, his look patient. "I don't like playing devil's advocate here- you must know that I don't want to do this either. If I had my way I would take you with me to Halifax- or suggest that you stay at home with our folks. But it's a moot point now. It's not unfaithful, it's not wrong, it's just what needs to be done- and you know we'd never go back on our word."

He was pleased to see her smile. "No. Although I _am_ the girl who gave her word that she would never forgive you. How do you account for that?"

He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead, grinning as her red curls brushed his nose. "I'd say you upheld your word pretty well. After five years you just- renegotiated the terms of our arrangement." He pulled back at her laughter, his look now serious. "Let's not second-guess ourselves now. And hopefully, next summer we can have a proper holiday. For now, we'll earn our way, we'll write long letters to each other and gather stories to tell around our fireside next year- and in three month's time, we'll be together again. I'm proud of us, actually."

Anne turned to face him, a slight smile on her pink lips. "Why?"

"We survived," he said frankly, his hazel eyes earnest. "Six months ago we took a risk that being together was the best thing we could do, and it _was_. We've dealt with the worst of the gossip, the faculty is pretty happy with us- and- I think- we're happy," he said, with only a slight hesitation.

Anne gave him a candid look that did much to ease his mind. "I think so, too. It's a choice, isn't it? We're happy together because we've chosen to be so."

There was something more Gilbert could have wished to hear, but he sighed, a slight smile curving on his tired face. "Of course."

Anne watched him for a moment, her grey eyes on him wistfully. She bit her lip, before placing tentative hands on the sides of his face, and pulled him close to kiss him. His lips were warm against hers, and she felt him sigh as he pulled her closer. In that embrace, she tried to offer him a reassurance she could not yet give in words- and inside, she pleaded for time to know her own heart.

* * *

At seven o'clock the next evening, Gilbert sat in the living room at Patty's Place in his black evening suit, fiddling with his white bow tie. He rose to stand before the mirror to fix it before he heard a chuckle, and Stella walked over to him.

"Oh, come here," she said good-naturedly. "I'm rather good with ties, you know."

Gilbert grinned, allowing her to set it to rights. "So is she ready, yet?"

Stella bent to pick up a red rose she had dropped on the sofa, a gift from one of her classmates for the evening. "Patience, Gilbert. The two of you missed the whole courting phase, remember- and courting is waiting. You'll just have to wait."

"I _am_ ready, Mr Impatient," he heard from the top of the staircase.

Gilbert looked up and a huge smile crossed his face, as he walked to the staircase to meet her. She lifted her skirts carefully, the ivory silk covered in a floating layer of chiffon that rippled as she walked. Tiny rosebuds trailed all over the bodice, and Gilbert's hazel eyes followed the flowers all the way down to the train before he met her twinkling eyes.

"I'm up _here_ , Gil."

He began to laugh, his cheeks colouring. "I'm torn," he admitted candidly, and Anne's auburn eyebrow quirked. "I've gotten used to us getting ready for these events together- but then I've missed seeing you walk down the stairs when I pick you up from here, too."

Anne smiled, her cheeks warming. "You are a sentimental old fellow, Gil," she murmured, slipping her hand into his as she stepped off the last step.

His twisted smile was broad as he put an arm around her waist. "I am. Humour me."

There was a snort behind them, and Stella nudged the pair as she gathered her amber skirts to go upstairs. "Oh, please; no love-making on the staircase. We're a household of innocents," she mock-grumbled as she swept past them, causing Anne to choke in embarrassment.

"Gil, she didn't mean _that_ ," she stammered, only to have him grin, his hazel eyes twinkling.

"Relax, sweetheart." He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and she stilled immediately, her startled eyes on him when he pulled away. "She's just trying to get a rise out of us," he reminded her quietly. "And when it's her turn to find someone, I will repay her with interest."

She chuckled. "Then I wish you luck, Gil- Stella is much harder to embarrass than the rest of us." Anne ran her fingers over his lapels, looking up at him shyly. "She just surprised me."

Gilbert didn't say anything to this, he just leant in to kiss her again, and had almost forgotten his surroundings when a chorus of groans met them from the top of the staircase.

"Good heavens, they're at it again."

This time, Anne pulled away with a fiery glint in her eyes as she looked at her former housemates. "Well, you were the ones who insisted that the Blythes come over to get ready tonight, weren't you? And guess what? We _came_."

Phil stepped down the staircase, her sleek curls bouncing above the teal satin of her gown. "And a good thing too- she never would have gotten into that gown without help."

Gilbert turned back to study the pretty dress with a smile on his face. "It's stunning. How haven't I seen this one before?"

Anne chuckled, stepping lightly toward the sofa where her wraps lay. "Phil has had it ever since the holidays- she was the one to embroider the rosebuds over the chiffon. It was a little plain before she insisted on taking it home with her. I was supposed to wear it to a dance in February- however, we were both too ill to go then."

Gilbert shook his head, smiling as he helped Anne on with the green wrap that shone against ruddy curls and milky-white skin. She was exquisite- and her pretty figure showed to perfection in the loveliest gown he had ever seen her in. Fighting the urge to kiss her again, he offered her his arm as Aunt Jimsie opened the door to Jo and Aaron Thomas, who bounded up to Priscilla with a grin and a handful of daisies.

"Stella, where is Stephen?" Prissy asked, shrugging into her coat.

"Oh, I'm meeting him there," she said, unconcerned. "Now, please tell me that we haven't forgotten anything!"

Aunt Jimsie was there to check the girl's appearances, straightening sashes and tucking errant curls away. She assured a tender-hearted Anne that she would let Rusty out of the kitchen only when everyone was gone- she didn't want him escaping to try and follow Anne that night.

On the walk to Redmond, Gilbert and Anne loitered a little behind the others, enjoying the sound of the wind blowing through the pines in the darkness. There was peace and quiet, and Anne drew in a deep breath.

"I could almost be convinced to forgo the dance," she said dreamily. "It's so peaceful, here- and listen to the sound of the waves lapping against the rocks."

Gilbert smiled, watching the girls run ahead to look at the water under the bridge, sparkling in the light of the half-moon.

"Are you asking me to ask you to skip it?" he murmured. "You could convince me to, you know."

She chuckled at him. "The girls would be disappointed if we didn't go."

"Is that all that's stopping you from saying that you don't want to?"

"Honestly? Yes." She shook back a rose-spattered flounce that had shifted in the breeze, exhaling. "We have a wedding in three days. Diana is counting on us to be there, bright and ready: I know that she chose the date to make sure that we could make it, but it's coming hard on the heels of classes, convocation and a long journey. It's just all rather imminent," she said slowly.

"And then we go to work for two and a half months." Gilbert's eyes were on the street lamps that led to the college, and he chuckled. "They just don't know our world, Anne. I'm sure even my parents think of college as an extension of school. They probably all think we come home for four o'clock tea every day."

"We could only hope," Anne commented, thinking of the late hours they had both been keeping lately.

The brilliant lights of the reception hall came into view as the couple crested the hill, hearing Phil's ready laugh sound in the darkness. Gilbert stopped her then, his look serious. "Say the word, and we'll skip it. I don't mind. It's not our graduation, after all."

Anne paused for a moment, seeing that Phil and Jo had turned back to see what was taking them so long. She smiled, remembering a conversation she had had with her some months earlier.

"We shouldn't. We're only young once- and we're going to have a lovely night. Besides, we can always sleep on the train tomorrow."

He offered her his arm and grinned. "In that case, let's get going before they-"

"What is taking you so long, Mr and Mrs Blythe?" Phil called from her place at the front, exasperated. "Some of us want to get to the dance before it ends!"

Anne exchanging a knowing look with Gilbert and picked up her train with a smile. "Coming, Phil."

* * *

Only an hour later, Gilbert stood on the side of the ballroom, smiling as he watched Anne progress around the room with one of the younger members of the football team. He had danced with the girls and then wound up talking with some of the teaching staff, including Professor Winston and Professor Daniels- who had come armed with another list of things for Gilbert to research over the summer. He was introduced to several of the more promising students from the younger years and asked if he would consider running for the student body president- to which diplomatically said that he would have to wait and see what happened next year. Daniels nodded approvingly, and then Gilbert shared a solemn waltz with the dean's wife, who announced that she would take a turn with young Blythe since her husband would only oblige her once. A rather rattled Gilbert escaped her afterwards to find Anne, who teased him about being favoured above all students.

Gilbert was able to claim his wife for the last set before the interval, and when it was done he took her hand in his, and the two went out to supper in the brightly lit rooms, humming with the sound of people laughing and talking over refreshments. They had been talking together when Stella approached with a young rosy-cheeked couple.

"I have been trying to organize this for months!" Stella said dramatically. "Anne, Gilbert, I would like to present to you, Andrew and Bessie O'Connor. Bessie is-"

"The other married co-ed," the young woman supplied, with a roguish twinkle in her dark eyes. "I really did intend to meet you both properly before now- however the senior year was a little more than I had bargained for: fair warning for next year. How are you both faring?"

Anne blinked in surprise at the candid question, as Gilbert moved to introduce Jonas and Aaron to Bessie's young husband. She couldn't help but smile into the girl's twinkling eyes as she sat down beside her cozily, while Stella was caught by a classmate in conversation. "I have heard a lot about you, you know. The gossip here is something awful, isn't it?" Before Anne could stiffen in trepidation, Bessie shook her head. "Oh, not that I pay it much mind. My own poor story was hashed over for months- and that was a year ago now. Really, it was nothing more than unremitting stubbornness on both of our parts," she said candidly. "He couldn't wait to marry before his father sent him off to China, and I wouldn't give up my schooling. Heaven help our children if they take after us."

Anne chuckled, glancing furtively at Gilbert, who was talking with the gentlemen animatedly. "Isn't that every parent's worry?"

Bessie leant in confidingly, laughter in her eyes. "Confidentially, it's a rather _present_ worry, for us. When Andrew came home four months ago for a visit, we decided that it was close enough to- er, bend the rules a little bit."

Anne gaped like a fish at the young woman's candour. "You mean- you're- now?"

"Yes. Due in October," she said cheerfully. "We're terribly excited, you see. We were only waiting until I finished my degree to have children."

Anne's cheeks were hot, however, she found herself smiling. "Congratulations to you both."

Bessie looked thoughtful, then. "Thank you. And in truth, being in limbo is rarely healthy. We were so pleased to finally be married- we've been waiting for many years. And yet until I finished college, we couldn't really begin properly- especially since Andrew needed to travel last year. It's been a tumultuous ride, as I'm sure you can imagine. And it's a rather serious thing to hold back from intimacy for so long, you see- it breeds all sorts of insecurity in your marriage, particularly when there is distance is involved." Bessie didn't seem to notice Anne's face whitening and continued thoughtfully. "Suddenly you no longer feel sure of each other, and it can be hard to navigate that." She seemed to come to herself then, with a chagrined smile. "I'm sorry. Forgive me for rambling. I have no one else to pass my wisdom on to- and there are so few who will understand the path you are on. Even your closest friends won't fully understand."

Anne drew in a deep breath and nodded. "I suppose that is true. It's- it's perhaps a little different for us, though," she admitted.

Bessie eyed Anne curiously. "I did wonder, dear. May I ask what happened? You may trust me to be discreet."

Anne's eyes were on her tall husband, and before she had fully thought it through, she told their story rapidly, her pale face troubled. There was a moment of silence, and Bessie sighed.

"So there was some truth to the rumours then," she said gently, and Anne's cheeks flushed, instantly regretting her trust. "Oh, my dear, I didn't mean _that_ \- only you know what this college is like."

"All too well."

"Still," Bessie said, turning to Anne with a mischievous smile. "You've made such a wonderful beginning. They all think you are marvellous, now. And- _Gilbert Blythe_!"

Anne chuckled, flushing. "It certainly could be no one else," she said softly. "He is quite the best man in the world."

"Saving my Andrew, yes." Bessie gave a sigh of satisfaction, unconsciously rubbing her middle. "The two of you were always visible, you know, even amongst my class. You were breaking records constantly. Besides, you were known to be close. In that way, you were quite lucky- it seemed all the more plausible that you marry. And Professor Hallett has been known to be far more vindictive- that was lenient, for him." She saw the pensive look on Anne's face, and she sighed. "Look, I can see how much the two of you care for each other. You'll make it work- and distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Trust me- Andrew was in China for ten months last year."

Anne smiled. "Gilbert will only be in Halifax- that isn't really so far."

Andrew O'Connor came over to them then, his smile cheerful as he held a gloved hand out to his wife. Bessie was quick to turn back to Anne with a smile and produced a dainty calling card from her purse. "Andrew is home indefinitely, now, and so we will be making our home in Kingsport- do come and see us next year, won't you both? I'd very much like to know how you get on."

Anne nodded as Gilbert came to her side, before shaking Andrew's hand. After a cheerful farewell, Bessie smiled at the way Anne settled Gilbert's tie for him, her eyes twinkling.

 _Oh, sweetie_ , she thought indulgently. _It's really just a matter of time._

* * *

As couples began to take to the floor again in the brightly lit room, in another corner of the great hall Christine Stuart sat down beside Roy.

"I should think you above sulking, Royal. Why don't you go and ask her to dance? I know that you kept several spaces free."

Roy lifted his dark head, his look injured. "Why should you think I want to?"

Christine's sleek, dark head tipped back as she laughed. "Please, you've been staring at her red head all night. She's at a ball- and she can't dance with her husband for every dance."

Roy grimaced. "That husband is like a dog with a bone, with her-"

"Well, that's _charming_ , Roy…"

"Very well. Our esteemed class president is rather protective of his wife," he said coolly. "I'm almost certain the brute of a fellow is trying to keep everyone at bay. Or perhaps just me."

"My, my, we _do_ think ourselves the centre of the universe, don't we? Perhaps he simply doesn't like you."

"The feeling is mutual."

Christine spotted Gilbert watching the dance from the side of the room, talking with a gentleman beside him. Anne Blythe was indeed out on the dance floor with one of the sophomores, and she glanced up at Roy, intrigued. "I've never known you to be so fixated on any one girl, Roy- let alone one who is already married. Or is that the attraction?"

Roy scowled mockingly, his blue eyes following Anne. "Careful, Chrissy, that almost sounds like jealousy. Are you so afraid of losing me?"

Christine straightened her ivory shoulders with a bored expression. "You can't deflect me that easily."

Roy kicked his shoe against the chair moodily. "She looks at me as if she despises me. I've done nothing to deserve that. And that brute of a fellow is always there-"

Christine laughed, a tinny sound that had always irritated him. "Oh, Gilbert Blythe is no brute, Roy- you know that Ronald is never wrong about people. Since she is off-limits, you must find another goddess to worship."

"I am not doing that," Roy said between gritted teeth. "She is a league above everyone else in our English classes. I could challenge her if she would give me the time of day. But I offended her with my opinion on some little book she adored, and now she won't so much as look at me."

Christine gave him an odd look. "I see. Did you apologise?"

"I shouldn't need to apologise for my opinion," he said coolly. "But yes. And still, I am treated as a pariah."

Christine began to laugh. "All those spoiled misses that your mother chose for you- and you want someone who is unavailable."

"I _don't_ want her," he growled. "But I would like to know why she looks at me as if I was vermin. Had I flattered the ridiculous story, perhaps she would have given me a chance- but stories of pathetic and downtrodden orphans hold no interest for me. And why should she care what I think?"

Christine turned to him gaping, her violet eyes alight with mirth. "You offended her with a story about orphans? You are an idiot, Roy. Don't you paid attention to the gossip?"

He stiffened. "What gossip?"

She turned to him, her violet eyes cool. "Roy; Anne Shirley was orphaned as a baby. She's a foundling."

Roy froze, and he turned to look at her moving across the floor, a picture of perfect refinement and taste.

"Impossible," he said quietly.

"Oh, it's more than possible," Christine commented, amused. "She was adopted by some islanders ten years ago. That's when she met Gilbert."

Roy spun to watch her suspiciously. "Now why would you know that?"

Christine chuckled. "I make it my mission to know who people are. Besides, I was intrigued about the Blythes after their rather impromptu wedding- especially given the way that Ronald praised him to the skies."

"Well, your brother trusts me as well." He stood up then, his eyes glittering strangely.

Christine eyed him with some trepidation. "You obviously upset her a good deal, Roy- perhaps now is a good time to accept that, and just let her be."

"No, you were right the first time," he said, his eyes fixed on the dance floor. "I should ask her to dance."

* * *

Moody Spurgeon had just delivered Anne to Gilbert's side when the two of them felt a shadow fall over their seats. Gilbert's manner instantly became aloof as he and Anne rose.

"Mr Gardner, always a pleasure." Gilbert noticed Christine then, looking slightly out of breath, almost as if she had been chasing her escort. "Miss Stuart, it's nice to see you as well. You look lovely this evening."

Christine summoned a dazzling smile. "How kind of you, Mr Blythe. Mrs Blythe, your gown is the envy of half the girls in the room- it's quite lovely."

"Thank you, Miss Stuart."

Roy's dark blue eyes glittered as he turned to Anne. "Mrs Blythe, I wondered if you would allow me the honour of your next dance."

Gilbert tried not to wince at the fingernails that pinched his arm in Anne's rather visceral reaction, however, he admired her outward calm.

"Certainly."

Gilbert cleared his throat and gave Christine a polite nod. "Well, Miss Stuart, if you are not engaged-"

Christine beamed. "Of course, Mr Blythe. I enjoy dancing more than my escort does- I would be honoured." She couldn't help but be amused by the suddenly green eyes of the woman before her, knowing faint jealousy when she saw it.

 _Oh, honey_... _I'm not the threat, here..._

Christine took Gilbert's arm as the pairs moved apart, satisfied that she was looking very well that evening. And yet where was her Mr Dawson? A hundred miles away, involved in a yet another merger that took all of his time and attention. Still, he had promised to be at home during the summer holidays.

She eyed Gilbert curiously as they began to move down the set.

"I understand that you and Anne will graduate this time next year," she commented easily. "It must be a relief to see an end in sight."

Gilbert's reply was calm, and she smiled, appreciating his obvious strength as he turned them. "Perhaps. We have some decisions to make before we get to that point, of course."

Christine was quite impressed by his composure, considering the fact that he obviously wanted to turn to find Anne on the floor. Only good breeding kept his attention with her, she assumed, and she turned to see Roy's brooding face in the distance. Perhaps Roy _was_ right about Gilbert's motives.

"He won't eat her, you know," she pointed out, with a touch of laughter in her voice. Gilbert was swift to stiffen, and Christine arched a dark eyebrow at him. "What is it that bothers you about him?"

"I would not wish to criticize your partner, Miss Stuart," Gilbert said eventually.

She gave a slight laugh. "Mr Blythe, Ronald trusts him- to a degree, at least," she said fondly. "Although your wife certainly has managed to get under his skin." At the look that crossed his face, she was swift to clarify her words. "He believes that he upsets her- and Roy merely wishes to make amends."

"I see. Does he have five years?" he asked coolly. At Christine's look of confusion, he smiled. "Anne will do as she wishes, I am afraid. I certainly wouldn't want to cross what she feels is necessary."

Christine gave Gilbert a curious look. "If I may be quite bold, what is it you think he will do, Mr Blythe? She's married. He's romantic, but even he would not be so foolish as to attempt to come between you."

Gilbert's look was cool, this time. "He bothers my wife. And it seems that he doesn't take the word 'no' kindly, Miss Stuart."

Christine laughed. "He's from one of the most wealthy families in Kingsport. Of course, he doesn't. How could he threaten you, Mr Blythe? It isn't like he would try and talk her into an annulment."

Gilbert jarred to a stop, and he was swift to apologise as he began to move them again. " _Annulment_?"

Christine shrugged her elegant shoulders. "Many more marriages end in our circle than yours, I think. Although you really needn't worry- Roy knows the rules of the game."

Gilbert's voice was stiff. "I don't believe marriage is a game, Miss Stuart."

Her look was pitying, seeing the worry that the confident young man was not able to mask. "Neither do I- however the world is a far more cynical place than you would believe."

Gilbert caught sight of Anne's red head then, and his hazel eyes lit with fire. "Perhaps so. But it will not change who Anne and I are," he said quietly, and that was the end of the conversation.

* * *

Across the room, Roy and Anne danced together in silence. Roy's eyes smouldered, uncomfortably aware of how close he was to her. He caught Christine's eye across the room, seeing that she was distracting Blythe's attention nicely from his young wife.

"You are the brightest star in this room tonight, Mrs Blythe," he said smoothly, watching her reaction.

Anne thanked him, her manner stiff, and Roy's lip twitched cynically. She just wouldn't make this easy, would she?

"I must also thank you for encouraging me to take a second look at Neil Cross' little story," he said, carefully watching her reaction. "Perhaps it improves on a second perusal." She did not respond to this beyond a slight nod, and indignation flared in his belly. Did she still think him so far below her notice? "You do not approve of a changed opinion?"

He was pleased when she looked at him then, and he almost smiled at the spark of green in her grey eyes. "The opinion was your own to have, Mr Gardner. I merely told you that it was wrong. What do you see in it that you missed before?"

Roy's eyes were sharp as he watched her. "I see now that your own reaction to it was an emotional one. Now, why should that be, Mrs Blythe?"

Anne looked up at him, her eyes glittering. "Why does anyone form an opinion?"

His smile was almost predatory, then. "Perhaps when one is confronted by one's _past_." At her silence, he continued his voice low. "You have no comment on that, Mrs Blythe? That does surprise me. Or are you ashamed?"

He had come to a standstill, and a shaking Anne pulled herself from his arms, thankful that they were at the edge of the moving crowd.

"Mr Gardner-"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were orphaned, yourself?"

She didn't flinch at the word, and green eyes sparkled in anger. "I have never hidden the fact that I was adopted, Mr Gardner. You are not privy to my concerns."

"Oh, I don't think anyone is privy to those, Miss Shirley," he said deliberately. "You could have told me that day that I had upset you, instead of keeping me at arm's length all year."

Anne's chin jutted out, with eyes like fire. "You seem to wish to get my attention, Mr Gardner. Why do so?"

As the dance moved behind them, Roy stood stiffly at attention. "I do not like being judged because of my background," Roy said slowly. "That is unfair."

He was surprised to see her laugh, however, there was no mirth in it. "Do you imagine that belongs to you alone?"

"No, I simply do not hide what I am."

Anne crimsoned. "I do _not_ -"

"Then why not discuss it openly? You seemed to be willing to tell me what my mother and father and I saw in the orphanage we patronise- so why not talk about it now?"

Anne stiffened. "I believe I will return to my husband, Mr Gardner."

He caught her wrist then, his hold firm. "He is on the floor with _my_ partner, remember. He won't want you to make a scene here."

Anne's chin lifted. "On the contrary- if I don't make one, he _will_. He knows me well."

"Does he know everything?" Roy asked, his eyes cold.

"You are asking if Gilbert knows of my background? Of course he does."

"In my experience, women rarely tell their husbands everything," he said coolly. "What does he know then? Has he ever see one of those soulless houses that accept cast-off children? Did you ever tell him about it?" At her silence, he continued. "You are a juxtaposition, Miss Shirley. A married woman who is alone, even with her husband. A student of a prestigious school who had no parents to send her there."

Anne stood tall, fury radiating from her body. "I am not ashamed of my background. I am _not_ ashamed of the people who took me in- and I am not ashamed to have worked hard to get the education I wanted. I have _nothing_ to prove to you."

"No, I think you are trying to prove something to the world, Mrs Blythe," Roy said coldly. "You _and_ your husband. I think the two of you are trying to make everyone forget the rather sudden wedding last year. And I think you are a better actress than people give you credit for. As for _him_ -" here, his disgust was palpable- "I can't decide if he is just a better actor than you, or perhaps someone who doesn't know how to act at all."

Anne's face by now was chalk white, and she turned to face Roy unflinchingly. "You don't know me at all, Mr Gardner. If you did, you would know better than to provoke me just to get a reaction."

Roy's face coloured, and he bowed to her icily. "I have no wish to remain where I am obviously unwanted. Although do consider this- what will your husband do when he realises that an orphaned heart is incapable of returning his obvious affection? I re-read the book, Miss Shirley. Perhaps you should do the same."

With this, he turned and walked away, leaving several nearby dancers looking curiously at Anne. She gathered up her skirts numbly, clenching her teeth and walking to the door of the dressing rooms, her head held high. In a small cubicle, she locked the door behind her, slumping against the wall as hot tears threatened to fall.

A shaking hand reached down to smooth the skirt of the rose-spattered gown, and yet she couldn't see the ivory silk. Instead, it was the yellow wincey of another dress, much too short for her long, coltish figure, with the stain she had carefully tried to hide from Marilla's probing eyesight. The moments of insecurity as she tried to learn everything she had missed in her first eleven years of life. The burnt pages that had tried to chronicle the girl who never belonged, the girl who then had yet to see a single wish come true.

It was several minutes before Anne could leave the room, aware that Gilbert would be waiting for her. She was furious at herself for reacting, and couldn't explain why Roy's comments had seemed to penetrate her consciousness- he was angling for a reaction, and she knew better than to allow him the satisfaction.

Gilbert _knew_ her. He knew her faults; her temper, her pride, her forgetfulness and distraction. But why could she not tell him this? And why did it matter?

When Anne entered the ballroom, she found Gilbert standing with Phil, both scanning the room intently. Aware that they were surrounded by people, she held her head high as she walked to the two of them, who instantly sighed in relief as she stepped beside them.

Gilbert took her hand, somewhat puzzled to feel it shaking within his. "Sweetheart, I lost you."

Anne summoned a smile. "I was in the dressing rooms. I needed a break from the heat of the room," she said lightly.

He looked at her curiously. "Did you want to leave, now? We're only a dance or two from the end."

Phil touched Anne's arm, her look worried. "You are pale, sweetie. Maybe Jo and I could walk you both home? Prissy and Stella were planning on staying until the end- Jo and I want to leave sooner."

Gilbert saw the tint shake of Anne's head, and he shook his own. "No, stay, Phil. We'll be fine."

Phil promised to write often, and the two friends embraced warmly. She gave Anne's red head a pat and made Gilbert swear that he would write his wife copious love letters while he was working- and to send her a line if he felt the need to as well. She accompanied them to the cloakroom to get their belongings, and both she and Jo waved them off from the entrance to the ballroom, a slightly troubled look on her face as she watched the couple walk down the pathway together.

"What is it, Phil?" Jo asked, curiously.

She gave a short sigh, tucking her hand into his arm. "I don't know," Phil murmured. "But I'm worried."

* * *

Gilbert and Anne silently walked home in the moonlight, and within minutes was Gilbert unlocking the door to their house, holding out his hand to Anne as they crossed the threshold. When the door closed, Anne removed her wrap, surprising him as she turned suddenly to wrap herself in his arms. Gilbert smiled, feeling her body snugly against his in their dark house. He held her in silence for long minutes, his hands smoothing across her back and wondering as the tension in her body did not lessen.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, moving his hands to cup her cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. "Something is clearly troubling you."

Anne gave a shaky laugh, quite unable to articulate the number of things troubling her at the moment- no sentence could contain it all.

His hazel eyes burnt into her own, and he bent closer to her. "Sweetheart, please talk to me."

Anne's eyes fell, the lump in her throat burned. She read his concern, the trust he placed in her- and all that she had never told him seemed to flood her mind. She struggled to speak, now. "You- you _know_ me."

"Well- yes," he said, mildly confused.

To his horror, he saw the tears gathering in her eyes, and she shook her head. "I don't- I don't want to leave," she whispered. "I don't want it to change- I don't want you to go-"

Gilbert pulled her close, his chest tightening at her evident pain. "Anne, we're not going to change; everything is going to be alright."

She was shivering now, and he closed his eyes briefly, his heart feeling as if it would crack under the weight of all that he had not yet said to her.

"I need you to look at me, sweetheart," he said, his voice tight. When she did so, he drew in a deep breath. "I love you, Anne."


	23. Chapter 23, The Point of No Return

**Chapter 23**

Anne stood frozen in Gilbert's arms, her eyes enormous in the darkness as the words _I love you_ echoed through the room.

"Gil-"

He released his hold on her slightly, his manner gentle. "I'm sorry for being so abrupt. I've been trying to tell you that for five years now. But I never knew- I was never sure-"

Anne's hands were shaking, and she tried to draw in a proper breath, only to find that she couldn't- as the panic rose in her chest, she clutched Gilbert's shirt as he moved quickly to sit her down on one of the kitchen chairs.

"Come on sweetheart, breathe. Nice and slow," Gilbert coached her, rubbing her cold hands with his own as he knelt down.

Anne's grey eyes were glassy, and she felt him touching her face and her arms as she fought to breathe slowly. Eventually, she nodded, and Gilbert sat back in some relief. He gave a wry chuckle as he ruffled the brown curls on his forehead. "Well. A panic attack wasn't quite what I was expecting when I said that."

Anne lifted her face, her eyes showing her bewilderment. "You- you love me?"

Gilbert stilled in the now deafening silence. "Yes." He saw the worry on her face, and he tried to smile. "You don't need to say anything, sweetheart. I'm not trying to force a confession from you. I- I just wanted you to know." His heart sank at the look of confusion on her face, and he had to choke back his disappointment at her reaction. "Why- why should that surprise you?" he asked slowly.

Anne shook her head as if trying to clear it. "I- I suppose that it shouldn't. We chose this path- we knew that it would lead here-"

Gilbert swallowed. "Anne, I didn't _have_ to choose to love you. It happened before I even realised what it was." He gave her a smile that tried to be cheerful. "Anne, it isn't the end of the world."

She looked up then, inexplicably hurt at his attempt to make light of his feelings. "I'm not saying that it _is_ , Gil. I just wasn't expecting it so soon-"

"Well, normally people do know before their six month wedding anniversary."

Anne flinched at the unintentional sarcasm in his comment. "Gilbert, I was just surprised."

"Well, I really don't know how to take that," he stated after a moment, his expression mild. "I'd thought it pretty obvious, given that I asked you to marry me. I wouldn't have proposed unless there were some feelings there."

She opened her mouth several times and then reached a tentative hand toward him. "For- the whole time?"

He nodded, watching unknown emotions cross her face. There was a panic rising in his own chest now, wondering if he'd blown it- if he'd spoken too soon.

Anne moved to stand, the train of her skirt catching on the broken rung of the chair. She moved to untangle it with shaking hands before straightening up slowly. "Gil, we didn't have the ideal start, we know that." Gilbert's face was inscrutable, and a tentative Anne stepped closer to him. "I- suppose I didn't realise your feelings were as strong as this when you suggested that we do this." She gulped faintly and tried to smile. "I should- I _should_ have. But you know where I was, at the time. And the past six months have been hard- and happy- and frustrating and wonderful and terrifying. All of those things. I needed time then- I _still_ might. I just didn't realize that we weren't starting from the same place together."

Gilbert's eyes held a hint of hurt, but he shook his head, coming to take her hands in his. "I _did_ know that at the time," he insisted. "And it didn't make any difference to me- to how I felt. It meant everything to me that you gave me this chance to be with you. I can't imagine my life without you- and after the way it all happened, I've felt guilty for being as happy as I am."

Anne smiled crookedly. "I'm glad- that you are, Gil."

He pulled her into a hug, feeling her arms come around him tentatively. The tension in him began to dissipate, and he pulled away, a slight smile on his tired face. "I didn't always know how to read you back then," he admitted softly, sitting down against the back of the sofa. "I was so terrified of messing up what we had together. I was scared that someone else would come along- someone who could offer you more than I could. I I almost proposed to you, once, before."

Anne had been taking the pins from her hair, and she turned back to him, her eyes anxious. "To- to me?"

"No, to the _other_ six girls I was madly in love with," Gilbert said, exasperated, not seeing the wariness in her body as he loosened his collar. "Of course, to you. It was over a year ago- last April. It was foolish and short-sighted- and I could really have hurt both of us if I'd done it."

Anne swallowed convulsively. "I- I didn't know that."

To this, Gilbert gave an ironic smile. "Well, it's funny, but I could have sworn that you suspected something. I thought that was why you were pushing me away back then."

" _Gil_ -"

Gilbert was silent for a time and then shrugged foolishly. "I'm just glad that I didn't. I don't know that it would have ended so well." He cleared his throat noisily then, wanting to cover up his emotion. "Well, _not_ proposing led to us being married only six months later- I couldn't have foreseen _that_ bend in the road."

Anne tried to smile at him. "Nor I."

Gilbert leant back, his manner carefully nonchalant. "Of course, if you _had_ accepted me we would only be engaged- instead of trying to figure out how to be married while at college."

Anne's heart was thumping anxiously, watching the nervous way Gilbert rubbed his knuckles. She tried to laugh. "Knowing me, I would have still come to the tent when you were injured."

He nodded. "Probably," he said absently. "But then the college would have already known about us- so maybe they wouldn't have forced our marriage on you."

Gilbert's tone was light, however, Anne flinched at the hurt in his eyes. She realised sickly that neither of them was in any state to revisit the past- and neither of them was in complete control of their emotions at that moment. "Gil? We are in the best place for us, right now. I'm not sorry about that. I- I care for you so much. It's true that I didn't see it, back then- I didn't think we would work together when we were younger. I was wrong." Her hands twisted together anxiously, as she tried to find the right words. "But- if you had asked me back then? I would have said no. We would both still be at college- but not together. Perhaps we needed a mistake to be made, Gil. Perhaps we _needed_ this."

Gilbert's smile faded. He'd known- and yet it hurt more than he expected to have her confirm it. "So I would have lost you, then."

Anne's eyes filled with tears. "But you didn't, Gilbert."

He nodded, his face pale. "Still- I owe- _all_ of my happiness with you- to an accident. To the unbelievable arrogance of us thinking that we should be the exception to every known rule. I don't know how I am supposed to feel about the fact that I would have only ever been with you by default."

Anne's lips trembled. "You don't know that. And isn't it enough that we are together, Gil?"

She watched him run a shaking hand through his curls, and he walked away into the living room, to throw himself down on the chair.

"Yes," he said slowly. "It should be."

Anne was growing more nervous, and she followed him to kneel down beside the chair, her grey eyes meeting his. "We can't go back. We're not the people we were a year ago- even six months ago. I don't want to be anywhere else but here- with you."

Gilbert's jaw clenched as he reflected on her insistence each time that she had chosen this. _Chose_ to marry her best friend, _chose_ to stay and work at their marriage. He had never had a choice. He loved her, and _would_ love her, even if it destroyed him. He forced himself to smile, now.

"Well- it's water under the bridge, isn't it?" he said quietly. "I- I suppose we'd better be heading to bed. The train leaves at seven in the morning."

Anne stood up, nodding silently as she picked up the rose covered train of her gown and turned to leave the room.

Gilbert stood perfectly still, his eyes closed as his wife moved further from him. The hollow feeling in his chest was growing, and suddenly, he asked the question he had sworn would never cross his lips.

"Why wasn't it me?"

Anne turned back to him, her hands falling limply at her sides. "What?"

Feeling as if his last link to sanity was deserting him, Gilbert met her frightened eyes. "Why wasn't it me back then?" he repeated, his jaw tense. "You- you said you weren't planning to marry. But everyone else- everyone in our world thought that we had something special. What was wrong with me? Why wouldn't you have considered me as being worthy of your hand?"

"Gil, it's not important, now-"

"Oh, I don't agree," he said numbly. "Was it only me who felt the connection that we used to have? Did I just imagine that?"

" _No_!"

"Then why couldn't you have given me a chance?" he said, desperation cracking his voice. "Was I so far beneath what you hoped for?"

"Did you ever think that you were a great deal _too_ good for me, Gil?" Anne whispered, her eyes smarting. "You could have had anyone. You didn't need to settle for the girl next door!"

Gilbert's face was white to the lips, and he swallowed with difficulty. "That's what you thought? That I settled for you because you were my best option?"

"That isn't what I meant!" Anne choked. "We were children barely out of school ourselves when people started talking about us. You became my very best friend, Gil. I didn't want to lose that by being pushed into the silly courting games the others played- we had more waiting for us than the rest of them settled for. We deserved to have our chance to come to Redmond- to learn, and to grow- we deserved to have a choice!"

Gilbert turned to her, the betrayal on his face so deep that it physically hurt. "Anne, I wasn't infatuated with you," he said bitterly. "And I assure you that it was no game. I loved you at eighteen. Hell, I probably loved you when you smashed the slate over my head in school. I tried to tell you how I felt- I tried to show you how much you mattered to me- and then increasingly over the years I either met your cold shoulder or your ridicule whenever I tried. You were pushing me away- and I thought that I'd lost you then. And you know what really hurts? You're still doing it to me now. And I think it's time that I knew why."

Anne held up her hands in defeat, and she pleaded with him. "I don't know, Gil. I don't have an answer for you."

He brushed the corner of his eye roughly, and her heart broke at the tremble in his voice. "For my sake, _try_."

Anne looked at him across the home that had become their haven. His eyes bored into her own, and she tried to steady her voice. "I- I didn't see you as a romantic suitor back then," she said faintly. "I didn't see anyone that way from home."

"But you might have _here_?" Gilbert asked, feeling as if he was wading through a nightmare. "Like Roy Gardner? Someone like _him_?"

Anne inhaled sharply, and he almost stepped back at the flash of rage on her face. "You have _no right_ to bring him into this, Gilbert," she said furiously. "He has _nothing_ to do with us. I don't need to remind you that what I believed about romance back then was a childish dream. You _know_ that. You said that you knew the place I was coming from- and you said that you understood it would take time for us to grow together. And I met Roy as a _married woman_ , Gilbert. That _meant_ something to me. I didn't want anyone else."

Gilbert gave a pained laugh. "Now, if only I could believe that you could ever want _me_."

There was a moment as time seemed to still, and Anne looked at Gilbert's stricken face through the dim room. A part of her begged her mouth to speak, to release the words that would end his hurt- but she wouldn't do it. Not under pressure, not even coerced by his pain. She shook her head slightly, tears dripping down her cheeks. "Gil, I am your _wife_. I married _you_."

Gilbert drew in a shaking breath. "To save us from expulsion. Yes, I remember."

Anne's hand grabbed the chair close to her, trying to keep herself steady. "That was never the only reason we did it."

"I always thought that we were more than friends," Gilbert said quietly.

"We _are_!"

He gave a short laugh. "No, Anne, I can see it now. _You_ were the one being friendly. _I_ was the fool who was ready to give my heart and soul just to be with you."

"I didn't know that you felt that way!"

"Then you were _blind_ , Anne!" Gilbert shouted, his temper finally snapping. "The whole _world_ knew that I was in love with you! How could you miss something that was right in front of you?"

Anne stepped backwards, trying to squash the fear swirling inside her at his rage. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Because it didn't look like what I imagined love to be! I imagined romance and poetry, and _gentleness_! I didn't imagine the boy who once pulled my hair, who later became the one who teased me and fought with me and climbed trees with me to be the one I was supposed to fall in love with! I didn't believe that!"

Gilbert's face was ashen. "So all you ever saw in me was the boy I was at thirteen?" There was silence then, and he nodded, a brittle smile on his face. "I see. I- I was arrogant enough to believe that you loved me too."

She drew in a breath that seemed to catch in her throat. "It isn't that I don't-"

"You know, I really thought this would be over by now," he said feverishly, cutting her off. "I thought our marriage would mean that I never had to worry about losing you again. I thought it wouldn't hurt again. But it's _worse_. You'll never be with me because you wanted to be. You're only here out of obligation."

Anne choked in hurt. "You don't know that."

Gilbert turned on her, his look piercing. "So is it just me who has been feeling like a real married couple these last few months? Have I imagined that, too?"

" _No_!"

"Then for once, open up to me and tell me something different!"

"I am not going to tell you something I am not ready for," Anne stormed. "You told me that you could give me time- are you saying that you won't, now?"

He shook his head, numbly. "I'm saying that I love you. Not acceptance, not making the best of a bad situation- but love. I've never loved- never _wanted_ anyone like I want you. I want to be in the core of your heart as you are in mine- but you keep me at a distance. I keep thinking, just a little longer- but it never comes. How long am I meant to wait?"

Anne's face was paler than he had ever seen, however, he was too upset to see her clearly, or to notice that he had said something that she would only see through her fear. "Are you giving up on us?"

For the first time, Anne saw the tremendous weight that had rested on his shoulders from the moment it all began.

"No. But _you_ have."

"You can't just decide that for me."

"No? Because at any point I could wake up to find you gone!"

Anne recoiled as if she had been slapped. "Why would you think that I would leave?"

"Because you're not _here_ with me the way I am with you," he said hoarsely. "You keep your walls up all the time. You keep telling me that you will talk to me sometime, but then it doesn't happen. Why can't you tell me when you are hurting? Why won't you let me in?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she swallowed. "I have shown you more of myself than I have ever shown anyone, Gilbert."

"Well, it feels as if you have one foot outside the door now."

The situation was spiralling out of control now, and Anne raised her eyes to meet his, trembling. "You keep saying that _I_ would leave. Did you forget that I am your wife?"

"No," Gilbert said, with a poor attempt at a laugh. "But some generous person reminded me tonight that although divorces are uncommon, annulments are _not_. You could choose to do that, Anne, and I would never see you again."

Anne stood her ground, her chin high despite the terror rising in her chest. "You seem to have thought this through. Was that your plan if things didn't work between us?"

At this, Gilbert slammed his hand on the table, making Anne flinch in a reaction that was almost as old as she was. "I never planned _any_ of this! I planned to get through college. I planned to make something of myself, and I hoped to someday ask you to be my wife. I wanted _you_. But you didn't want me."

Anne wiped away furious tears, her manner stiff. "I didn't want anyone, Gil. Do you know why? I didn't want to be married unless I could guarantee that it wouldn't end up being like _this,"_ she gestured with shaking hands between them. "Do you want to know why I imagined someone who came straight out of a book? Because no one can hurt you in a fairytale."

Gilbert swallowed. "And this is no fairytale." He saw her flinch when he moved toward her suddenly and stopped cold, his face whitening. "What do you mean, _hurt_ you?"

A numb Gilbert took in Anne's posture- poised for flight, and her eyes glittering- and yet she couldn't mask the fear on her face with every movement he made. His heart aching, he stumbled backwards, shaking his head. "You can't think that I would ever hurt you that way," he whispered.

Her chin rose, and she moved further away from him with eyes that seemed to have lost all hope. "And what would I do if you _did_?"

Something deep inside him shattered, then. He moved to the bench that held his keys, refusing to look back at his wife. "If you think- if you think I could do _that_ , then you don't know me at all, Anne Shirley," he said hoarsely. He didn't turn as he grabbed his coat. "Forget I ever asked anything. I'll be back before we need to leave in the morning."

Anne flinched at the way the door slammed behind him, and she stood still for long minutes in the icy silence, hearing the faint crunch of gravel on the path by the boardinghouse. It was sometime later when the mantel clock chimed midnight, and she suddenly came to, standing in the house in the rose-covered gown, her hair coming out of its pins, and her chest feeling as if a weight of iron sat on it. She turned on stiff legs to walk into the bedroom, refusing to look at where Gilbert's bed lay innocently. With shaking hands she removed her pretty gown, trying not to remember the way he had looked at her mere hours ago. Her corset, her heavy petticoats dropped to the floor without care, and she pulled out a nightgown from the drawer and stumbled over the packed bags that lay before the dresser.

She'd pushed him to it. It was her fault. She'd pushed him to go. She'd _accused_ him-

Anne slipped down to the braided mat that Marilla had made, shivering. She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to feel some warmth again. The overwhelming fear and tension had been building inside her for weeks, and as she remembered his face turning from her a little moan broke through the tightness in her throat, and she curled up on the mat and brokenly began to cry.

* * *

Even the longest night will eventually come to an end. At five o'clock in the morning, there was no sound outside on the street as weary footsteps trudged up the narrow pathway. The moon was setting in the west, and dry, burning eyes turned to see it as it sank beneath the horizon. Sunrise was still some time away, and the Mushroom lay in complete darkness.

Gilbert's black suit was hopelessly crumpled and his collar hung loose. He stood looking at the cottage before him for a moment, his face tight. He'd been gone for hours. What if she wasn't there? What if she _had_ left? The terror of what he might find inside almost paralysed him- and it was with an effort that he made himself place his hand on the wooden gate. She was still there- she had to be. He walked to the veranda only to pause for long minutes, unsure what he should do.

His father had often said that it was more important to end an argument than to win it. Gilbert licked dry lips, and pushed the key into the lock of his front door- and he was terrified to find that it hadn't been locked.

It was dark inside the house, and he looked around, his heart hammering. The bedroom door was open, and she wasn't in bed- there was no fire in the hearth, or in the stove. As he turned toward the door in panic, he caught sight of Anne's red head on the arm of the sofa, and his knees almost buckled in relief. Gilbert softly removed his coat, his heart fragile as he walked toward her curled up form. When he could find the nerve to kneel beside her, his heart broke. She was in her oldest nightgown, a far cry from her triumphant appearance mere hours ago- her hair was pulled back into the braids of the schoolgirl she had been, and his mouth trembled at the lines of worry on her face- as if even in sleep, her fears pursued her. Carefully, he brushed a shaking hand over her cheek, knowing that he needed to wake her.

She frowned at the touch, and her grey eyes opened in the dimness, blinking as they readjusted. To his shame she pulled away as if she had been burned, looking back at him in shock.

"You came back," she whispered, and Gilbert recoiled from her, his face ashen.

"Did you think I _wouldn't_?"

Anne's forehead creased in an attempt to hold back her tears, and she launched herself at him, almost strangling him in her need to get her arms around his neck. Almost he overbalanced, and it was with an effort that he pushed the two of them upright, his hand smoothing up and down her back shakily.

"Sweetheart, I know we had a fight, but there's no need to choke me."

There was no corresponding laughter though, and when her trembling arms loosened their death-grip, he simply held her, neither of them daring to move. The harsh words they had spoken to each other seemed to echo in the air, and eventually, Anne pulled away from Gilbert, her eyes dull. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Why didn't you go to bed?" he said softly. "I left so that you could."

There was a faint shadow of hysteria in her eyes. "You- you thought I would sleep after that?"

Gilbert swallowed. "I- oh. I suppose not."

Anne moved the neckline of her nightgown higher, suddenly wishing she had chosen something in better condition. "Where did you go?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Gilbert hesitated. "I walked around the harbour for a time- and I went to Patty's Place. I spent the night in the orchard." He shrugged, looking foolish. "I couldn't bear the thought of walking alone through St Johns- I thought I'd wind up going mad if I did."

Anne lifted her hand to brush back the loose hair on her forehead, her eyes lowered. "Did the girls know you were there?"

He shook his head, tiredly pulling off his soiled tie. "They'd had a good night. They didn't need to know."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Gilbert could see her withdrawing from him. He remembered her angry words, but they paled next to the look of hurt that had flashed in her grey eyes at him. Only once before had he hurt her so terribly, and his heart stung with regret.

"I'm sorry, Anne."

She said nothing, however, he saw the tear that fell before she turned away. He grabbed her hand, remembering how she had clung to him only moments earlier. "Anne, it was just a fight. That's all," he said hoarsely. In any other circumstance, she would erect her barriers- her chin would come up, and she would give as good as she got. Not seeing that fire in her terrified him. "I was always coming back. I just needed some time." The mask fell into place then, and as she stood up to move, and he caught her hand, now more afraid than ever. "Anne, _talk_ to me-"

She turned back stiffly, and he could see the tears that gathered in her eyes. "I thought- I thought you _left_ ," she choked.

He gripped her hands tightly, his hazel eyes desperate. "No- _never_ , Anne- I- we were angry- I didn't think it would do any good to keep fighting-"

She tried to control the shaking in her body as her breath caught. " _You left_ -"

He pulled her down to sit on the sofa again, kneeling before her. "Anne, I told you I was coming back. It was just a walk- my dad used to go to the shore whenever he and mother argued." He rubbed his hands over his face then, exhausted. "She hated it too," he mumbled. "Look, if I didn't leave, I was terrified that you would. And I didn't want you out there alone at night."

A slight tremor shook Anne then. " _You_ were the one who mentioned annulments."

Gilbert groaned, putting his head down on her knees for a moment. "Anne, I was a frightened idiot. I'd never considered it- I was terrified when Christine brought it up."

Anne's eyes suddenly flared into life again. " _Christine_ said that?"

He gave a derisive laugh. "Ironically, trying to convince me that Roy was no threat. I- it just scared me. I shouldn't have brought it up." He looked up, his jaw clenched stubbornly. "Look, we've been through hell and back to get to this point together. You _know_ how I feel now. Do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to ever walk away from you?"

Anne swallowed, feeling sick and ignoring his question. "I'm sorry," she said dully. "I was unfair, I provoked you- and you deserved better."

"Anne, it was just a _fight_ -"

Her eyes suddenly flamed with anger. "Yes. Based on real problems that you and I cannot ignore any longer, Gilbert."

"That just makes us like every other couple that ever lived," he said stubbornly. "Why should we be any different?"

"Other couples didn't start the way we did!"

Gilbert got to his feet then, moving to sit beside her. "Anne, do you know what I realised out there?"

"Why do people always ask that question?" Anne muttered, exhausted. "It isn't as if I can answer you."

Gilbert scowled at her then. "I kept thinking about what you said to me when you said yes. You said that it would be hard- that we would fight, we would misunderstand each other."

" _Haven't_ we?"

He repressed a shiver at the memory of their voices raised in fury. "No. We don't. Not until last night. Why are you so afraid to actually fight with me now?"

"Are you so forgetful, then?"

" _Not last night_ ," he said, between gritted teeth. "We used to set the countryside on fire with our arguments- but it's rare that you allow yourself to have one with me now. _One_ fight- our first bad one- and you're already thinking that I'll leave. Is that what you think of my commitment?"

"No! It's about how much more there is to lose!" Anne caught her breath, her eyes filling with angry tears. "I know that I was wrong- but _I don't know how to fix this._ I don't even know how to talk about this. We have to go-" She got to her feet unsteadily, her face even paler than it had been, and the note of hysteria in her voice rose. "Gilbert, it's almost morning- we need to leave for the station soon-"

Her husband froze, before slowly shaking his head. "Anne, I don't think we should go."

" _We are not missing Diana's wedding!"_

He held her arms carefully, bending to look at her panicked face in the darkness. "Anne, we're not in good shape. We've barely slept. I'm saying that we shouldn't go- _yet_. We can catch the late train tonight, that should get us home by mid-afternoon on Sunday. We'll still be there for the wedding; we just won't be two days early like we planned."

Anne's lips were numb. "But your parents are expecting us tonight-"

"I'll wire them from the station." She was trembling on her feet, and his voice was gentle. "I just think it would be foolish to travel while we're in this state. It won't help anyone back home. We're already packed- we should just go to bed now." Anne tried to clear her throat, blinking gritty eyes. "Look, we'll have time on the train. Maybe we can save talking about last night until then, and get some sleep."

There was a pause, and then she nodded. Gilbert turned her toward the bedroom and followed her in to find pyjamas to change into. He watched as she slowly picked up her rose-covered gown from the floor, laying it over the chair with shaking hands.

He swallowed hard. "You were beautiful in it." She turned around to him, and he almost choked at the wariness in her stance. Had he destroyed all the trust she had in him in just one night?

"I know that last night ended badly," he said jerkily. "But I- I don't want to forget the time we had together before it went wrong- how proud I was to be with you. I want you to know that I still am."

She remained frozen, her eyes turned away from him. Gilbert picked up his clothes, closing eyes that burned damnably. After a second, his head lifted and his jaw set as he walked into the annexe, closing the door behind him gently. He moved slowly to change himself, all the while feverishly thinking about what he needed to do now. He'd thought he was doing the right thing in walking away, but her reaction left him speechless. They had fought often enough before, as friends. Why was she so afraid that he would not come back? Didn't she _know_ by now that he could never leave her?

When Gilbert stepped out of the annexe several minutes later, he stopped, seeing that Anne was still standing by the window. Gilbert swallowed convulsively at a sudden thought as he moved to stand near her. "We're supposed to sleep in the same bed at my parent's house tomorrow night," he said quietly. "Are you sure you can still do that with me?"

Anne flinched, pushing her red braid behind her shoulder and blinking back tears that she was too tired to cry. "If you don't want to-"

"No, I think we should." He walked over to take her hand gently, leading her back to his own bed. "Come on." He climbed in, turning to hold the covers out for her, his heart thudding anxiously. There was a slight hesitation before an exhausted Anne slipped between the sheets, unconsciously sighing as her head rested on the other pillow. His forehead creased as he fought to remain steady- wanting to wrap his girl in his arms, to feel her weight resting against him.

She was beside him now, he told himself sternly. That had to be enough.

He felt her shifting under the covers, no doubt uneasy at his proximity after their fight- truthfully, he himself was too shaken to feel safe away from her. After a moment of silence, she spoke, and he shivered, realising how close she was.

"Are you only doing this so that we don't look foolish tomorrow night?"

Gilbert's answer was soft. "No. I want you here."

There was silence then, and he felt her sigh, rolling onto her side and curling up facing him.

"Anne?"

"Yes?"

He took her hand in his tightly, his brown curls close to her forehead. "I swear I won't ever give up on us."

There was a faint pause and then- "Good."


	24. Chapter 24, Reflections of You and Me

**Chapter 24**

The parlour of Orchard Slope was buzzing with energy on the summer's day, packed tightly with guests and heavily scented with roses and orange blossoms. The low hum of conversation surrounded Anne and Gilbert in the seats that Diana had assigned for her friend, much closer to the front than either of them felt was comfortable. When they had arrived, Mrs Lynde had commented to Marilla on the how well the young pair looked together, however, Marilla found herself watching her girl with concern in her eyes- despite their physical closeness, she couldn't help but feel that something was amiss. There had, however, been little time to talk to them in person.

Of course, there was always going to be gossip at the wedding that was rumoured to have cost Stephen Barry a pretty penny. Moody Spurgeon McPherson had been asked to be the best man- and Fred Wright's cousin had his nose out of joint. Scandalised women commented on the brazen way Gilbert Blythe kept his arm around his wife, and that her hand was seen to rest most indecorously on his grey-clad knee as well- no one but Anne knew that it was to stop him from incessantly jiggling his leg. Gilbert was already wound so tightly that Anne feared it would immediately draw unwanted attention to the two of them.

She looked around the small room, seeing how few of their classmates were there. Charlie had not been invited, due to a rather tactless comment he had made to the bride last summer, saying that long engagements rarely lasted. Jane was now teaching on the faraway plains, and Gertie and Josie were visiting their aunt in Summerside- _thank heavens_ , Anne thought dryly. She didn't think she could handle Josie at the moment.

Aunt Mary Maria was quite enough.

* * *

Gilbert's father had met the younger Blythes at the Carmody station. If the pair seemed slightly out of spirits he chalked it up to the long journey and made talk easily as they drove the short distance to Avonlea. An exhausted Gilbert roused himself to answer his father's questions, leaving Anne quite thankful to be left in peace- somehow, being home with the family made the tension between them all the more noticeable. She listened to Gilbert tell his father that yes, the house was fine, college was fine, and the football season ended well. Didn't they have a big dance to go to before they came home? Yes, they had. Very successful affair.

When they pulled up at the front gate of the Blythe farmyard, Gilbert handed Anne out of the buggy, and she looked up at the familiar house wistfully. Marilla was less than a mile away now, and Anne swallowed, feeling like the child wanting to crawl into its mother's lap for comfort. They would see her tomorrow, she hoped.

She watched Gilbert lifting out the suitcases, and he gave her a slight smile as he caught her eye. "You could use a nap," he said quietly.

"So could you."

His broad shoulders sagged, and he sighed. "Well, that's what tonight is for. Although I think Mother will be too excited to let us go to bed too early."

John Blythe dropped the last bag on the veranda and turned to the exhausted couple. "Oh- er, Gil, take Anne inside to settle into the spare room," he said, frowning and awkwardly playing with his hat. "Better do it now."

Gilbert froze, examining his father's face. "Why?" he questioned, his voice suddenly lowering. " _Dad_?"

Anne's startled eyes swivelled between father and son, and she blinked at the odd look Gilbert's face, who seemed to be trying to figure something out. His gaze swung up to the house, and then she saw the moment that his breath left him in horror. "Dad, _no_. You said she wasn't coming yet!"

"Well, she wasn't meant to be," John said reluctantly. "But she wanted to see us, and to meet Anne, and George needs a break from her. She's resting upstairs now."

To Anne's bewilderment, she found herself being whisked through the house while Gilbert brought their bags into the spare room, most uncharacteristically muttering under his breath the whole time. She hadn't even seen his mother yet, and was out of breath when they reached the spare room.

"Gil?"

He shut and locked the door with more force than necessary, and to Anne's surprise, he threw himself onto the wide bed with a groan. "Why now?" he suddenly bellowed, making Anne's eyes fly wide open.

At his subsequent silence, she crept to the side of the bed. "Gil, you're starting to worry me," she said cautiously. "It's your Aunt, isn't it? Aunt Mary Maria? Surely it won't be so terrible." She watched him struggle up on his elbows to glare at her.

"She's Dad's _cousin_. And she's a vicious, blood-thirsty old harpy."

Anne's mouth fell open in shock. This was her Gilbert, who _never_ said anything unkind about a woman- let alone a relative!

" _Gilbert_ -"

He came up to his knees on the mattress, pleading with her. "Anne, I'm not kidding. She's not like the rest of the family- she's an absolute nightmare. She can sniff out any weakness- she will poke at every sore spot she can find," he said bleakly. "And you and I have a pretty big one right now."

Anne sat down on the bed beside him, watching Gilbert with something akin to pity. "She can't be any worse than anything we've faced over the last six months."

Gilbert's jaw clenched. "She could really hurt you, Anne."

"She _can't_."

Gilbert reached out to brush a loose curl from her cheek, his smile sad. "She's cruel, love."

There was a strange look in Anne's grey eyes that was there for a moment, and then it was gone. In its place was the steel that he knew so well. "I don't believe you will let her hurt me, Gil. I won't take her words on. As for us, we'll muddle through somehow." She looked at her husband, an eyebrow raised in challenge. "We'll just have to go to war again."

This made him laugh, and she was pleased to see his mouth quirking upwards. "You think we can?"

Anne's look was gentle. "We're a good team, Gil. We'll show only what we are prepared to show, nothing more. We'll sort ourselves out in time."

Gilbert eyed her, his exhaustion showing. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not used to seeing you _un_ sure."

The sound of voices could be heard through the door, and Gilbert shuddered. "You know, you and I could be out that window in half a minute. We could get lost in the orchard before we have to see her. _Trees_ , my dryad."

There was a brief moment where Anne considered it, laughing for the first time since the dance. "Your mother will be organising tea for us," she reminded him quietly. She tiptoed to the door, opening it a crack to peer into the hallway. "I don't hear anything now."

"Maybe she ate my parents."

Anne stifled a snort, and removed the jacket of her traveling suit. In the mirror, she saw Gilbert straightening up his coat, and he caught her eye. "I'm sorry, Anne," he said quietly.

She turned to him, her hand nervously smoothing the fabric of her cream blouse. "Perhaps she won't be so terrible."

"She is," he commented dully. "She's demanding and nosy, and never has anything good to say about anyone." He sighed, rubbing his lean face in brown hands. He looked over to where Anne watched him in compassion. "Oh, I'm sure you're right, Anne. We can face this. I'm sorry, though- she won't be pleasant. And I didn't mean to scare you- especially right now."

Anne crossed to his side, her face serious as she reached up to straighten his tie. "Together, remember? For better or worse."

Gilbert's smile was faint, but he nodded. "This might be 'worse'." He took her hand in his and led her up the hallway, stopping at the voices in his mother's parlour. "Last chance, Anne," he muttered. "You, me and the Haunted Wood…"

She shook her head at her husband with a slight smile. "Later, perhaps. Come on. Confident, happy, and crazy about each other, yes?"

"If you're going to survive her, you'd better be."

* * *

Anne drew in a breath now, wishing that Mrs Barry had chosen to open a window in the stuffy parlour, as the wedding guests moved restlessly.

Aunt Mary Maria had been everything Gilbert had said- poisonously sweet, asking all manner of questions that she shouldn't, and then smiling over the answers she had been given. So Annie was an orphan, then. An orphan, a working girl, and a resident of a college filled with boys. Had it been _her_ idea to marry while Gilbert was still studying? Did she not consider Gilbert's family in her rush to secure an eligible man?

Anne had been able to remain calm under the attack, however, it was Gilbert who bristled like a porcupine near the old woman, while his parents tried to defuse the conversation. Anne had taken to surreptitiously rubbing his arm to settle him, reminding him that she was fine. Every now and then he would still her hand with his own, his fingertips tracing her rings.

For the past forty-eight hours, they had seemed to move non-stop; from the rush to have themselves ready for the night-train in Kingsport, changing between train and boat and train again to reach their destination at noon on Sunday. Almost as soon as Anne and Gilbert had risen from tea with Aunt Mary Maria, the Green Gables folk had arrived at the Blythe farm, invited for dinner that night by Mrs Blythe to please her beloved daughter-in-law. Anne and Gilbert had been overwhelmed with hugs, advice and comments on how pale and thin they both looked- were they quite well? Were they eating enough?

Anne tried to reassure them, catching the look of near-desperation on Gilbert's face over Davy's ever-moving head, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he asked about Gilbert's football team. She felt it too; the clock ticking down on their time left together, the families who needed to spend time with them, and the much deeper chasm of hurt and misunderstanding that they had not been able to address yet. And it hadn't remained hidden- Marilla had cupped her cheek in her hand, studying her face- it had taken everything Anne had to not cry. She swallowed, steeling herself to keep smiling. Later, when Gilbert had gone, perhaps she would talk to Marilla about everything.

Between travel and their families, the helplessness grew as Anne realised that their time together was fast dwindling. They hadn't talked. All of the progress they had made- had she destroyed their hard work over the past six months? Gilbert had been so hurt by the idea that she had been afraid of him- and yet how could she explain that it had not been him that she feared- why she was afraid that he might not return. She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. That was the worst of it- that it wasn't about Gilbert, really. It was _her_. She saw now that she was afraid to trust him with her heart- afraid that it would make her more vulnerable than she had ever been.

When Marilla had taken the Green Gables family home again late that night, after she had heard all of the Avonlea news and they had caught up on some of their own, she and Gilbert had been sent to bed by a fussing Amelia. After the previous night it hadn't felt so strange to be sharing a bed- however, Gilbert had tossed and turned for an hour before getting up to tell her that he was going for a run. She'd thought him joking, until she saw shoes under the long pyjama bottoms and cotton vest- and she had laughed, pleased when he gave her his old grin. Gilbert reminded her that he used to do this all the time- a few laps around the farm, and he would be able to sleep. He'd kissed her cheek before leaping out the spare room window, and she had fallen asleep to the sound of the wind in the nearby orchard.

* * *

Anne flickered a glance toward her husband now. He was looking better than he had last night, however, she could tell that he was still wound tightly. She reached out to take her hand in his, trying to ignore the discussion going on several rows back.

Mrs Harmon and Mrs Sloane were talking, now. They were appalled at Anne Shirley- could she not keep her hands to herself in public? It was a terrible example for poor Diana- they were surprised that Lenore Barry hadn't put a stop to it at once. Perhaps they were already in the family way. Anne, of course, would make a terribly flighty mother- and if the besotted look on Gilbert's face was any indication, he would be no better. Perhaps someone should have a quiet word with John Blythe about that... Like a pair of babies themselves, they were, so Mrs Harmon said condescendingly. Playing at marriage in that cottage in the city- why, Amelia Blythe had said it was no bigger than a washing basket! And did she _really_ think that green was an appropriate colour to wear to a wedding?

Gilbert frowned slightly at the rude comments and bent down, his mouth close to her ear. "Don't listen to the old cats. I love this dress on you," he whispered.

Anne looked up, pleased to see that he had calmed slightly. "I know. You seem to like the green."

"On you? Always." He took her hand in his, looking around surreptitiously. "I should have thought they would be on time. Is the bride running late?"

Anne shook her head, her smile wistful. "No, she's ready- and so happy. They're just waiting on the pianist."

* * *

Diana had asked that Anne be present while she was dressed an hour earlier, and Stephen Barry had come to collect Anne from the Blythes in time to assist her. Her bridesmaid was quite put out about this, however, Diana had stubbornly insisted that her married friend was to do it. Anne stepped into Diana's bedroom, her heart already fragile at the sight of her beloved friend, something that was echoed on Diana's face.

Diana moved to embrace Anne tightly. "I was so worried when Marilla said you were coming late," she said tearily, pulling away from Anne to flap her hands on hot cheeks. "Oh, Anne, I didn't want to do this without you!"

Anne tried to smile. "I'm here now, dearest- Gil and I were delayed, but we would never dare to miss this."

Diana turned to hunt up a handkerchief, giving a sigh of relief. "I should hope not- especially since I never got to be at _yours_ , Mrs Blythe. We can make this one do for both of us."

Anne nodded, her eyes tender. She set to work on Diana's gown, and the two of them talked for some minutes before Diana was caught scowling in the mirror while Anne was hooking up her skirt. To her surprise, Anne began to laugh.

"Di, darling, you will look wonderful- however you should try to manage a smile, for Fred's sake."

Diana turned around to sit on the bed, regardless of the state of her skirts. "It's just- strange to actually find myself _here_ , after three years. And my mother has been impossible today, coming in and out, lecturing me about being responsible for a home, and for a husband- Anne, did anyone give you the talk about the wedding night?" she asked suddenly. There was a moment of silence, while Anne gaped at her friend.

"Di, you know- Gil and I- we haven't-"

Diana's shoulders fell, her eyes pleading. "I know, darling, but you've still lived with a man for six months now- and I don't know who else to talk to about this. Mother was quite clear that it isn't to be discussed with anyone- and it all sounds so horrid, the way she tells it. But it _can't_ be like that- can it? Surely not with Fred."

Anne hesitated before gathering her skirts together to sit beside Diana. "I don't know," she said softly. "Gilbert says-"

Diana's eyes widened comically. "You've talked to _him_ about it?"

Anne chuckled, her look thoughtful. "Yes. I mean, at the end of the day, it's only about the two of you, isn't it?"

"Yes, but mother apparently felt that this morning was the time to give a lecture she could have given me months ago- and according to her, men want it all the time, Anne," Diana muttered. "And you're not supposed to let that happen."

At this, Anne frowned. "Why?" she asked suddenly. "Why do we wait all this time to be able to do something that is God-ordained, and then stop? Marriage is more than procreation, surely- it's love, and- and trust." She studied the little white gloves she wore, her eyes clouded. "Gil is right, it makes no sense to view it the way the older women do- you don't want a relationship where there is no true union of hearts and souls."

Diana humphed, her eyes nevertheless beginning to twinkle. "Easy for _you_ to say, Mrs Blythe, you aren't considering it yet."

Anne turned to her, pale but steady. "I've been trying to process this since November, Di. And I've certainly been thinking about it- even if it terrifies me." Her bluntness made her friend blanch, but Anne continued doggedly. "Nevertheless, I _can't_ believe we are supposed to trust our lives- our _children_ \- to someone whom we love, without also trusting them with _this_. That would be ludicrous. Fred won't stop being who he is, Di."

Diana bumped her shoulder with her own, more perceptive than Anne realised. "And neither will Gil."

There was silence then until Anne sighed. "I suppose not." She couldn't help a little wry smile, brushing back the red curls on her forehead. "And I don't see why men are expected to show their desire that way, and why women are expected to suppress it- that seems like a terrible joke on mankind. It can't actually _be_ that way."

"I suppose so." A blushing Diana turned to Anne with a wicked smile. "It's certainly fun to _almost_ do it," she muttered, and Anne's mouth fell open in shock before both girls began to laugh.

"Diana Barry!" Anne gasped, her cheeks flaming.

"That's _Mrs Wright_ soon," she said, cheekily smoothing her petticoats. "I needn't remind you that it has been a very long engagement, Miss _I-had-seven-days-to-get-married_." Diana stopped, suddenly sobering. "Oh, I know that you are right, Anne. It's just the weight of expectation- and- and my mother indicated he may not be terribly patient tonight. It just- worried me."

Anne slipped her hand into Diana's, and she rested her red head on her shoulder. "I understand, although I don't believe you need to worry- he will want to please you, Di." For a moment there was the silence and blessed comfort between kindred spirits, and Diana sighed.

"Anne, why were you and Gil delayed?" she said carefully. "I can feel that things aren't quite right with you."

Anne paled, drawing away slightly. "We're fine, Di."

Diana shook her head, her dark eyes worried as she turned to face her on the bed. "I can read you better than that, Anne. Is everything alright with Gilbert?"

Anne tried to laugh, tucking a red curl behind one ear. "Di, if this were any other day, I would tell you everything- but it's not. We are- we _will_ be fine," she said slowly. "Please don't concern yourself today."

Diana stilled, her hands reaching for Anne's. "Come on. We have time, just tell me."

Anne drew in a halting breath at Diana's compassionate gaze. "We- we had a fight. A rather big one, if I'm honest. It was so late when he- when we finished. We weren't in any shape to leave the next morning- so we stayed, and got some sleep. We're so tired, and there has been so much pressure with college lately- and we're going to be separated for three months now."

Diana gave her a piercing look and nodded. "That is a lot to handle," she said softly. "But I've seen the two of you work through harder things- and you've disagreed before."

Anne bit her lip, troubled. "Not like this. And we haven't had time to talk about it." She sighed, closing her eyes. "We will be fine, I know that- I just wish it wasn't so close to us having to be apart."

Diana chuckled, surprisingly. "Anne, if I know you, you are probably fighting that more than anything else. You don't want to leave Gilbert. You hated to leave Matthew and Marilla and me for Queens- only your desire to learn got you there. I know how you grieved Ruby- you grieved moving away from the girls- and leaving Marilla for Redmond has always been hard. And you even fought Fred in the beginning, because you thought you would lose me to him."

Anne's eyes were startled, and she licked suddenly dry lips. "It was very selfish of me."

Diana shook her black head compassionately. "You're anything but selfish, Anne. You're just afraid of losing those you love. I've always known that."

Anne tried to still trembling lips, her voice desperate. " _How_ , Di?"

Diana smiled into grey eyes, her hand gripping Anne's. "Because after one day, you made me swear eternal friendship to you in that garden downstairs, Anne. You didn't understand that you had it anyway." At Anne's choked laughter, she pulled her friend into her embrace. "Anne, you'll both be fine- and I would think that you'll probably fall in love with him via his voluminous letters- I saw how you leapt on every one that came from him last summer."

This made Anne laugh, and she wiped her eyes carefully. "You may be right. Oh, I've missed you, Di."

"Thank you for trusting me with this, dearest." Diana stood up then with twinkling eyes, her hands coming to her rounded hips. "Now, you will be coming to my house before you leave the island in September, won't you? None of this false delicacy because we are newlyweds."

Anne agreed with a chuckle, and the two girls stood before the mirror as Anne helped Diana on with the bodice of her dress. Diana made a dream of a bride, the veil softening her dark curls as Anne draped it carefully. Within minutes there was a knock at the door, and Lenore Barry stood in the doorway, her hands clasped over her dark blue silk gown. She turned to Anne stiffly.

"Anne, your husband is waiting for you in the hall."

Anne nodded, pausing to give Diana a quick kiss. "I'll see you downstairs," she said to the bride softly and left mother and daughter alone together.

Closing the door behind her with a sigh, she heard his step at the top of the stairs and looked up to see Gilbert waiting for her there. There was a flush on his cheeks as Anne came toward him, and he took her hand, pulling it up to kiss her knuckles gently.

"I woke to find no wife with me," he commented, as they walked down the stairs together.

Anne turned to smile at him. "You were asleep when Mr Barry came to collect me an hour ago- I wouldn't let your mother wake you until it was necessary."

Gilbert frowned. "You didn't think I wanted to come with you?"

Anne chuckled at his face. "You would have been alone while I was with Diana- and I know that your mother wanted to feed you properly before you came. And besides- when _I_ left, you were snoring," she added in a whisper, her eyes twinkling at the indignant choke he gave.

"I was _not_!"

Anne grinned smugly. "Oh, you most certainly were, Gil. There is a first time for everything. I do hope it won't become a habit."

* * *

The guests waited expectantly as the clock ticked on, and Gilbert started when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He looked up to see Moody's embarrassed face, jerking his head to indicate that he should follow him. Gilbert turned back to Anne, who nudged him to go.

"It might be the groom asking for you," she said quietly. "Go; I'll be fine."

Gilbert rose and followed Moody through the crowd and out to the back veranda, where a pale Fred was pacing.

"He's been like this for an hour," Moody muttered. "I didn't know what to suggest, so I thought we could use someone who's done it and survived."

Gilbert turned to Fred, his look curious. "Fred, this isn't like you to panic. You can do this."

Fred turned to him, his look aghast. "Easy for you to say, you've already _done_ it! And at least you don't have Anne's parents breathing down your neck!" Gilbert raised his eyebrows at his friend, and Fred seemed to deflate. "Sorry."

Gilbert kept his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "It's a day of stress for a lifetime of happiness. You know it's worth that."

Fred dropped to a garden seat, his face clouded. "Of course. It's all I've ever wanted. But what if she changes her mind at the last minute?"

"She _won't_ -"

"Rose Spencer did it," Fred mumbled mutinously, and Gilbert chuckled.

"She's not changing her mind, you idiot- she's up there waiting for you. It's all going to be fine." He still looked rather green, and Gilbert gave him a shake. "It's the best decision you ever made," he said quietly. "She'll be with you every day- and you'll not have to say goodnight on the doorstep anymore. She's going to carry your name, your _children_. She's showing how much faith she has in you, Fred. You'll see." That it was a reminder he needed as well as Fred, Gilbert saw at once, and he broke off with a deep sigh.

There was the swish of a gown and click of the door, and Fred shot to his feet when he saw Diana's mother. "It's time, Fredrick," she said abruptly before shutting the door, and Fred was left in shock, pale and sweating. Moody shrugged behind him in bewilderment, and Gilbert frowned, hoping Fred wasn't about to faint. He placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, his mouth twitching. He'd always taken great pains to embarrass his childhood friend in the past- maybe it would draw some blood back to his face.

"Er- look here, Fred, if you feel like you're going to faint- maybe think about- er, _tonight_. That should get you through it all."

Fred choked slightly, but his normal ruddy colour returned to his cheeks, and Gilbert stepped back, satisfied. By the time the groom ambled sheepishly in through the door a few minutes later, his face remained a dark, brick-red.

Gilbert took his place beside Anne then, and the Wedding March, at last, was heard in the crowded room. Diana swept into the parlour on her father's arm, and Anne gripped Gilbert's hand tightly as she watched Diana pledge herself to the man she loved. He pressed his handkerchief into her hand with a small smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around her. Let the old biddies gossip- they were together.

Within a short time, the solemn minister was pronouncing Fred and Diana to be man and wife, and Fred pulled his bride into her arms to kiss her in a way that quite scandalised their respective mothers. Anne turned to Gilbert with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with tears. Ignoring the chaos of people rising all over the room, he bent closer to kiss her forehead, holding his wife for long moments and allowing them to forget that they were not alone.

* * *

The afternoon was full of feasting and merry-making, and at sunset Anne and Gilbert sat down in the twilight at a small table, having seen Marilla and Rachel off at the gate a few minutes earlier. Guests were dancing happily while the hired musicians played into the night, a fiddle purring softly underneath the rising moon.

Gilbert couldn't help smiling at the triumphant look now on the groom's face, having gotten over his nerves as soon as Diana was his wife. He looked around at the neighbours he had grown up with, the people who had made up his and Anne's world. It had been a lovely day- and so far they had been able to talk calmly, almost like them again.

He turned to Anne now, his look hesitant. "How are you, Anne?"

Anne blinked. "I'm fine, Gil. Why?"

"You know why. You and I are running out of time," he said in a low voice.

Anne folded her hands in her lap, her grey eyes troubled. "I know."

There was a short silence, and Gilbert drummed his fingertips on the top of the table nervously. "You know, I keep thinking that you should have had something like this," he said, his voice quiet. "We should have done this here- the guests, the celebration- the lack of scandal."

"You and I rarely take the easy path, Gil." Anne was silent, her eyes wistful as she looked around at Diana's reception. "Do you really wish ours had been like this?"

He chuckled then, to her surprise. "Not really, I suppose. I would have loved our families there, though."

She smiled. "I know. But our wedding was quiet and sweet and personal. We didn't have someone else's vision for the day put on us. Somehow, I think it suited us rather well."

Gilbert smiled and after a moment, he offered her his hand. "Dance with me, Mrs Blythe?"

Anne nodded and they moved to the lawn to join the other guests, close to where Diana was dancing with her new husband.

Together Anne and Gilbert moved slowly, and more than one set of curious eyes followed them. Gilbert saw the glances and instinctively pulled Anne closer to him, his fingers curling around hers as he brought their hands close. After a time, he spoke softly.

"Do you have everything you need for Valley Road? The money, the address-"

Anne squeezed his hand, her eyes tender. "It's all ready. Are you?"

He nodded, his focus wholly on his wife in a sudden silence. "Anne, tell me that we're going to get through this," he whispered.

She searched hazel eyes earnestly as they moved, enjoying the way he pulled her close. "We will."

She felt him swallow, and his mouth was by her ear. "When are we going to talk?"

Anne's eyes slid shut, her cheek so close to his broad shoulder. "Gilbert, you leave in the morning- we can't go with that being the last thing on our minds." She lifted her head to look at him then. "We have work to do- and we both need some time to sort things out," she said softly. "I don't want to try and talk before we're ready, only to wind up hurting each other more."

He lifted his arm to spin her in the twilight and pulled her back into him gently. "I don't want to leave you when things aren't right between us." Oblivious to the people around them, Gilbert paused on the dance floor, his voice quiet. "Anne, I need to know that you trust me. The other night- did you really think that I could hurt you?"

Anne sighed, resting her forehead against his cheek. The rest of the crowd faded away, and she felt the arm around her waist tighten. "No," she said softly, unable to look at him in the eye.

"Then _why_ -"

Anne placed gentle fingers on his mouth, her eyes troubled. "Gilbert, I- I've been thinking that I need to tell you some things- things that I haven't told anyone," she said slowly, correctly reading the tension in him. "Perhaps I should have a long time ago." She felt him stiffen and swallowed. "You- you were right, Gil. There were reasons that I was pulling away from you a year ago. I know that I hurt you then- but I didn't know what else to do."

Gilbert bent his dark head to look at her, and his eyes were anguished. "We shouldn't talk about this now?"

She shook her head, her mouth twisted into a painful smile. "We're at a wedding- and you will be gone in a matter of hours. Can we please just enjoy the time we have left together?"

He searched her face, and after a moment he nodded. "Alright."

Her heart broke at the defeated tone in his voice, and she raised her hand again to stroke the strong chin she admired, smiling at the way his manner softened. "I was thinking that I could write to you about some things," she said quietly.

Gilbert pulled back slightly in hurt. "Is it so hard to talk to me in person, Anne?"

She closed her mouth in anguish, shaking her head. She lifted her face so that her mouth was close to his ear.

"Gil, what have I told you about myself before I came to Green Gables?"

He stopped cold then, raking anxious eyes over her face. "Only little things. Who you lived with- what you did there."

Anne blinked unbidden tears back furiously, her eyes over his shoulder. "That is as much as I have told anyone."

Gilbert placed a shaking hand on her cheek, his eyes haunted. "Anne? That's what this is about?" She didn't answer him, and after a moment he dropped his hand to crush her into his arms, not caring about the speculative eyes around them. She felt him nod then, his voice tight. "Alright, sweetheart. If you want to write it to me, then write. Whatever you need to do."

After a minute Anne pulled away slightly, her eyes falling before his. "You may not find it easy to read."

"I don't care," he whispered into her hair. "Tell me anything you need to."

After a moment Anne pulled away with a tentative smile, and Gilbert straightened up to claim her hand for the dance, still quite shaken. She gave a wry chuckle, and her red head tipped back in the moonlight. "You couldn't have wanted someone less complicated, Gilbert?"

He grinned, his heart beginning to settle. "Come on, Anne; where would be the fun in that?"

* * *

When the moon rose above the distant hills, the bride and groom farewelled their guests behind to drive to their new home. As the people began to depart Orchard Slope, Gilbert took Anne's hand in his, wordlessly tugging her in the direction of Lovers Lane. They soon found themselves deep in their woods and walked in an easy silence before coming to a place they had often gone together- a distant corner of Barry's pond, sheltered by overgrown trees that no one had ever bothered to clear out.

Paying no heed to his good suit, Gilbert walked ahead and flopped down on the grass with a long sigh, and Anne gathered dainty skirts together to sit beside him. For the first time since they had come home, there was blessed silence, and she drank in the scent of the warm night breeze.

"It's so beautiful here," she said softly. "I can't help wishing that we were staying for the summer."

Gilbert sighed, watching the stars move overhead, their lights dulled by the brilliant moon. "I know. And we're not doing another one like this, no matter what comes of next year."

Anne was silent for a moment, her body stiff. "Will you be alright in Halifax?"

He shrugged easily, sitting up to pull off his jacket, and rolling up his shirtsleeves. "Oh, I imagine so. Mr Druthers organised for me to board at the editor's house- I'll be fine. I'll miss home, though."

Anne smiled, running her hand through the soft grass beside her. "As will I. Janet Sweet is expecting me- and Esther writes that I will adore her home. It's called 'Wayside'- such a delightfully temporary name."

Gilbert settled back, smiling as she lay back down beside him. The conversations that had not yet been had sat between them, and he turned his head to see that her hands were beneath her red head, exposing the contours of her breast- he couldn't help but stare, wondering if she would be as relaxed if she knew how he struggled to not touch her, not move his fingers to the pearl buttons at her throat-

"You know that I don't want this either," she was saying slowly, and he studied her yearningly. "We've come so far together, and I worry that it will set us back."

"I thought that you said it was good that we would have some time apart."

Anne exhaled. "I did." She was silent for so long then that Gilbert thought she might have gone to sleep, and he was becoming drowsy himself when she suddenly spoke, her voice raw. "I don't know how to sort out the way I feel when I can't think clearly about us; not when we're together."

"Then why bother?" Gilbert came up on one elbow, a curious gleam in his eye, as he absorbed the meaning behind her words, startlingly open on this last night. "Anne, _you_ taught me to listen to my intuition- that sometimes we can't rationalise the way we feel. Why are you trying so hard to do it with me?"

Anne huffed, not wanting to answer him directly. "Why is it so _complicated_?"

Gilbert sat up with a smirk that Anne hadn't seen in days. "It's complicated because it's _us_ , Anne. No one else would be as foolish, surely."

He saw the flicker of hurt that crossed her face, and even in the moonlight, he could see that she had paled. "You wish we hadn't, don't you?"

The change that came over him was swift. He bent over her then, and one lean hand cupping her cheek. "Anne, if I could choose, I swear that I wouldn't change a thing."

Anne's teeth clenched against the tears that were rising against his tenderness. After the things they had said- after he had stormed away in the night, and she had cried herself to sleep, sick with regret at her inability to give him what he needed. "But-"

"Anne?" he interrupted quietly, bending close, his warm breath touching her cheek. "I _know_. But just- for now- stop thinking."

And then his lips were on hers, as they had been the other night, and she caught her breath as he gathered her to him on the soft ground. Gone was the tentative touch, in its place was a welcome heat that seemed to feed on the sweet air of the secluded glen, his lips sliding against hers, her own parting in response to his touch. Desperate to remove the hurt she had caused Anne clung to him, needing to make things right between them again.

There was a moment when Gilbert paused, his hand on her waist, his eyes seeking permission to continue. He wouldn't move without her consent- and it was with a breath of relief that he saw her nod, and she moved to meet his lips again. with her own. This time, his movements were slow and deliberate, not wanting to rush or push this fragile moment between them. His lips traveled over the light freckles on her nose, her smooth cheeks before moving down to her ivory throat, soft and warm and smelling of apple blossom. A sigh slipped from her mouth, and his heart seemed to pound in his chest as her fingers slipped into his hair to pull him closer.

He stopped momentarily as he cupped her cheek in his palm, marvelling at the feverish sparkle in her eyes. Her hands were on his shoulders then tugging him closer, and with mounting exhilaration Gilbert's body shifted over her as Anne's arms locked around his neck, revelling in the slender hands that grasped, trembling knees that parted to welcome him. His hands were twisted into her golden-red curls, and his heart melted at the little gasping breaths she gave against his lips. Her body pressed involuntarily against his, and she wrapped herself around him as he broke from her lips to kiss the warmth of her jaw, the delicate shell of her ear. He could have sworn that gravity had lost its hold on him- spinning and spinning as his hands slid against Anne's soft curves for the first time, and with a shock he felt her hands on his tie and collar, loosening both to wrap her hands around the back of his neck as she moved her lips back to his mouth.

There was a roar of triumph deep in his heart as she kissed him deeply then, her tongue gently brushing against his, and her breath warm against his mouth- he'd known it. The passion that he felt for her was reciprocated in her truly- and for long minutes he held her, her touch a balm for the hurt of the past few days.

It was with a great effort that he pulled away from her at last, both at the now-painful need coursing through his body and the thought of all that had not yet been resolved. However, she was looking up at him now with an open glance that he had not seen in months, and her hand closed over his own- only then did he realise that it was cupped over her breast. Her cheeks were flushed, however, she didn't move from him, and she stroked the top of his hand as he watched them together, spellbound. When he looked back up, she was smiling in wonder, and he lowered his head to her shoulder with a heartfelt sigh.

"You're so lovely, Anne," Gilbert whispered, and his heart almost burst as he felt her press a tender kiss to the top of his head. There was only silence then as the two of them calmed, lying next to each other on the soft grass as Gilbert's thumb tracing tiny circles on the softness of her breast. She lifted her arms to wrap around him tightly, and they lay listening to the water lapping against the bank of the pond.

Anne's eyes were closed when a night owl hooted sometime later, and she opened them to see Gilbert blinking drowsily beside her. He sighed and bent down to kiss her soft cheek once more, before meeting her eyes in a long glance. He pulled himself to his feet again, taking Anne's hands to help her up. Wordlessly, the couple turned to walk back home, threading their way through old paths they had so often walked. He helped her over the stile, she tucked her hand into his, and the moonlight flickered through the leaves of the trees, rustling together in the perfumed wind.

* * *

It was a silent couple who changed and climbed into the downy spare room bed that night. The elder Blythes were long asleep, having not expected them home until late. Anne was still as Gilbert reached out to take her hand, somewhat shyly after the desperation of their heated embrace in the woods.

"Anne, promise me that you'll come back to me," he said in a voice Anne hardly recognised- and she rose up on one elbow in her light nightgown to see him.

She didn't answer right away, taken aback at him voicing such a fear. "Do you not trust me, Gil?" she asked after a beat. In the moonlight, she could see his jaw working, and without conscious thought, she reached up to smooth the curly hair off his forehead. "Of course I will come home," she said softly. "I know we have things to address, but you _are_ my home, Gil. I thought you knew that."

He ran his hand through one of the curls that had escaped her nighttime braid, his look tender in the moonlight. "I'll miss you."

She smiled, suddenly wistful. "I'll miss you too. You'll only be home a day before me- and it's just ten weeks until we're back in Kingsport together," Anne said uncertainly, unsure of who she needed to convince most. "It will go quickly."

Gilbert grunted, burrowing his cheek into the pillow. "I mean it, you know- we're not working away from each other again."

She chuckled, squeezing his hand. "You say that now- you might find that you enjoy the bachelor life again, Gil."

Gilbert smiled, clasping her hand tightly in his own. He lifted his head to press a soft kiss to her lips, and unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he sighed, allowing his body to slide into slumber, safe and secure with her warmth beside him.

When morning came, Mrs Blythe tapped on the door of the guest room, knowing that Gilbert would need to be up early in time for the train. She opened the door a crack, and saw that the couple were fast asleep- and her eyes filled with ready tears. Anne lay curled in her husband's arms, her head against his chest, and his arms wrapped around her tightly. She closed the door softly behind her, and tiptoed away. She could leave them just a little bit longer.


	25. Chapter 25, The Book Most Sacred

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and read this- I say that each time, but I can't take it lightly that you spend your time in my fantasy world! I'm absolutely over the moon that you liked the last chapter- the whole story was built around this section, and I was a mite afraid that it would end up like a house of cards if I messed that chapter up. I'm also stoked that you liked the section in the woods- Carrots told me that Anne and Gil needed a really good make-out session, and I did my best to write one- and as one of you beloved reviewers pointed out, Gil even got to second base there! I nearly killed myself laughing about that term, so thank you for the best laugh I had all week.**

 **Love to you all, and thank you all for being patient while I write through the chaos that is my day-to-day life. It's a good one, but I could really use a few extra hours in the week! Couldn't we all?**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 25**

John and Amelia Blythe had both agreed that it was better for Anne to see Gilbert off at the Carmody station alone. The tension and grief between the pair at breakfast had been palpable- very much reminding the older couple of another painful goodbye many years earlier. While Amelia fussed over Gilbert's luggage and clothing and the necessary basket of food for the journey, John was taking Anne out to the yard to make sure that she was comfortable driving the buggy and instructing her on Achilles' peculiarities- named by Gilbert after a well-aimed kick when he was a foal. He was perfectly gentle, John assured her, he had just always preferred women to men.

There were heartfelt goodbyes on the doorstep, Aunt Mary Maria condescending to leave Gilbert's room to farewell him, despite how horribly her head was apparently aching. She was roundly ignored as the Blythe's farewelled their son, and Gilbert promised that he would write and would take care of himself- and then he handed his wife into the buggy, and with a wave, the young couple left the homestead behind them.

Gilbert's hand hardly left Anne's for the duration of the trip. The journey was mostly silent, as almost everything necessary had been said the night before. Anne watched the countryside change around them numbly as they drove. They had driven into Carmody on the weekends often in the fine weather during their first two years as friends- they both liked to browse in the little bookshop that shared a space with the general store, and there was a park behind the station that Anne and Diana had loved. She and Gilbert had often gone there in the heat- eating cakes from the bakery on the corner, and occasionally theorizing about what life might have been like, had they been friends while coming and going from Queens. It was just beyond the fence- however Anne's whole concentration was on the platform they had arrived on less than two days ago. It was odd, she thought distractedly- a lifetime seemed to have been lived in the past week.

Gilbert tied the horse to the hitching rail, his big hands securing the animal with ease. Achilles did not seem overly impressed, and Gilbert chuckled as the horse snorted. He stroked his silky nose, admonishing him to be good for Anne on the return trip- he then took his bags in one hand and Anne's in the other as they walked up the stone steps, stopping for a moment to talk to the station master. There was an odd peace on his face as they waited, while Anne felt as if she were being silently unravelled from the inside out.

Gilbert placed his bags down on the platform and straightened up with a smile that tried to be cheerful.

"Well, here we are again," he said lightly.

An outsider might assume he was complacent- however, Anne's hand was held in his in a grasp so tight that it hurt. She needed it, though- the sensation of his fingers on hers was at least real. Through a fog, she heard Gilbert speaking.

"I'll be in Halifax this time tomorrow. You have the address for the editor's home, and the paper- I'll start there on Thursday if the trains are on time. I'll write as soon as I get there- it should make it to Valley Road by the time you start school next week."

Anne nodded, feeling unaccountably cold on the summer morning. She found herself unable to think of a thing to say that made sense. Disconnected pictures flashed through her mind- little things that seemed to beg her to memorize them. The scuff on Gilbert's brown shoes, the new gloves she had insisted he purchase a month ago, after he said indifferently that his old ones were fine. The loose threads that hung from his coat sleeve, and the scent of him, his warmth and comforting presence- good heavens, was he actually talking about _goats_?

"Sweetheart, somehow I feel you aren't really listening to me," Gilbert commented dryly.

Anne looked up at him, and something in her frightened grey eyes made him draw closer, his throat tight. "It's the last time, Anne. The last three months apart for the rest of our lives."

She tried to laugh then, the painful sound catching in her throat. "You can't know that, Gil. Your parents probably thought the same thing, before Alberta."

He bent down, his look stern. "Well, barring my lungs collapsing- something that is _not_ hereditary, by the way; nothing will ever make me leave you again."

"What if-"

Gilbert's lips met hers then, his kiss hard against her mouth. When he pulled away, his breath was uneven. "Stop it, love. That's fear talking."

Anne pulled back, almost angry as her eyes stung. "You _aren't_ afraid? What if something happens? What if-"

"I'm going to write and tell you everything," Gilbert interrupted, his arms coming around her waist tightly. "I'll tell you everything I do, and I expect you to do the same. All the boring things- all the excitement-"

Anne managed to give a shaky laugh. "I'm going to a country town, Gil; it's you who will have the excitement in the city."

He shrugged, his hazel eyes twinkling. "Maybe someone's cow will get stuck in a bog."

They were silent, until they heard the shrill whistle of the train in the distance. A nightmarish feeling swept over Anne as Gilbert clasped her tighter, his voice tense. "We can do this, Anne. We'll be fine."

At that moment 'fine' was something Anne was clearly _not_ , and her tears would not be held back any longer. Gilbert held her close, his eyes closing in pain at the trembling in her slim body. Years of waiting for this precious girl, of longing for her to respond to him the way she was now- the reality of it washed over Gilbert as they stood together. She had dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs that shook her frame, and all he could do was to hold her, his mouth close to her ear.

"We've both done harder things than this before, Anne-girl. You know that. You'll be closer to Marilla and home than I will be, you could even come home on weekends if you like. Mother is talking about catching the train to see you in a few weeks- she was born not far from there, you know. You'll get to see more of the island- you've always wanted to do that. And I've never been to the south-east, so I'm expecting my wood nymph to catalogue all the new flora and fauna for me. And I'll get to the Mushroom just a day ahead of you- and I'm going to find some presents for our home while I'm in Halifax. What will we need, next year?"

Anne pulled away at this, managing a faint chuckle as she felt the distant rumble of the steam engine underfoot. "A bigger bookshelf? And nice teacups. We never seem to have enough for our guests. And Charlie does complain about using the heavier mugs."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Well I don't know about you, but pleasing my wife is more important to me than pleasing Mr Sloane. Let him find his own cups."

Over the top of her head, he saw the plume of smoke coming down the hill and sighed, holding her to him as his hands moved over her back soothingly. Anne pulled away slightly, only to slip slender arms around his neck. "There are a lot of people on the platform right now," he commented mischievously.

She didn't respond to his teasing, her big grey eyes fixed on his. "I don't really care, Gil."

Anne raised herself up on her toes to kiss him, a kiss that didn't break or pause until the rumble of the train grew loud around them. Gilbert's lips moved against hers desperately, knowing that they would have a few minutes at most.

He memorised the feel of her in his arms, the silky curls under fingers that were impeded by pins and the jaunty hat she wore- and with a slight groan, Gilbert pulled away from her lips as the hiss of steam filled the platform.

"Remind me to do that next time without your hat," he muttered. She choked with something close to a laugh, and he stopped to look into eyes that were now sparkling with tears. His heart fell as he gently wiped her eyes, wondering bleakly how he could ever have imagined that Anne didn't care for him. He knew now with heart-rending clarity that she did.

"Anne, I need you to tell me that you're going to be fine," he said unsteadily. "I can't get on that train unless I know that you're going to be alright."

Her body was shaking as she felt the other passengers brush past them, and she tried to chuckle through a tight throat. "Tomorrow, perhaps. I am _not_ fine right now, and you will just have to deal with it."

"Should I take that as a compliment? That Anne Blythe can't live without me?" he retorted, his eyes twinkling. "It's good for my ego, at least."

Anne's mouth fell open in indignation at his cheek. "I do _not_ exist to prop up your ego!"

He bent to kiss her firmly then, an amused smile on his face as he pulled away. " _That's_ my girl."

Their smiles were quick to fade at the station master's call. Gilbert released her with a rebellious look in his eyes that Anne understood, and she swallowed hard.

"Last time," she said softly, and he nodded. He bent to pick up his cases, and the guard helped him to put them onto the nearest carriage. The man then gestured at Anne with a roll of his eyes- Gilbert took that to mean he had one last moment to say goodbye, and he was quick to pull her close, his hold almost suffocatingly tight.

"I love you, Anne," he said, his voice shaking. "I love you, and I'll love you no matter where I am. I'll be thinking of you every day, every night until I'm with you again." He bent to kiss her, his mouth firm on hers until the whistle blew. With great pain, he released her to step onto the train. Gilbert's eyes stung, seeing the look of desolation on her face as he stood on the carriage platform. As the train lurched forward, he leant out. "Ten weeks, sweetheart," he said, trying to smile. "Ten weeks until you are stuck with me forever."

Anne choked back a sob, her heart tearing as the train begin to move. There were one or two others still on the platform, however, she was oblivious to them as hot tears blurred her sight. The train began to pick up speed as she remained rooted to the spot; a million thoughts, memories and truths she only dimly understood all rushing through her heart as she watched her husband go.

Gilbert leant out, his voice somehow carrying over the sound of the engine. " _Love you, Carrots_ ," she heard, and saw the grin on his face, trying to make her laugh. Still, she couldn't move, couldn't speak. She saw him wave his hat, his brown curls blowing crazily in the wind. He would be in Charlottetown in just a few hours, she thought hazily- hopefully, he would sleep once he was on his way.

Anne stood frozen until the train was out of sight. As the sound of the train faded, and the twittering of birds in the trees became audible once again, she turned from the platform to find herself completely alone. The station master had compassionately left her in peace when his inquiries about her wellbeing went unanswered, and she walked down the steps without needing to face anyone. She didn't turn toward the buggy and a bored looking Achilles, instead, she walked to the neglected piece of park that most of Carmody ignored. She drew her shaking limbs into herself, her mind at last convinced of the truth that she had long known, somewhere deep inside.

She was in love with him.

* * *

For almost an hour Anne sat in the little wilderness, trying to accustom herself to the unexpected moment of revelation. Wasn't there supposed to be some warning, she thought somewhat unreasonably- a blinding flash, a thunderclap or _something_! And it hadn't been like that at all. The knowledge had simply arrived, complete and whole, that she loved Gilbert Blythe- and she groaned now, placing her head in her hands. She must have done so for _years_. It _must_ be so- as she followed the memories of them back over the past five years she felt a clawing panic in her chest, finding that she could discern no beginning at all- it must have crept up so gradually that she didn't see it.

Anne raised a shaking hand to touch the pink enamel heart that had rarely been away from her since her birthday- Phil had commented on it many times, teasing her about carrying Gilbert's heart wherever she went. She had scoffed at the notion, of course, only to be flooded with complete and utter shame now as she realised that it was most painfully true- that all the power to break Gilbert Blythe was in her hands, as hers was with him. Hadn't this been what she had always secretly feared?

As if waking from a dream, Anne remembered the fancies she had spun about her one-day suitor- the melancholy gentleman who spoke in poetry and never raised his voice. He would say _this_ , do _that_ , and she would follow her own script flawlessly. It had only ever been hollow, she realised with a sick feeling inside- a caricature, a cheap imitation of real love. Oh, she'd known for months that it could not compare to the reality of Gilbert's presence in her life- now, she understood _why_.

Gilbert was too real to play along by any script. He was passionate, and honest, and _flawed_ \- as she was. For the past six months she had been so guarded; not wanting to let him down, not wanting him to know how uncertain she was- and all that had done was convince Gilbert that she didn't truly care for him. Anne's face crumpled, thinking of the hurt they had both unconsciously inflicted. He had asked her if she truly believed that he could hurt her- she had said no. It wasn't true, though, she thought drearily. He could, as she could him. That was what love made possible. He could hurt her more deeply than anyone ever had- and somehow, she had to find it in her to trust that he wouldn't.

Anne closed swollen eyes, resting her red head against the tree. She should have known last night, she thought, her face heating. He had touched her so gently, so passionately in the moonlit glen- and gooseflesh covered her skin as she remembered how brazenly she had responded to his touch. How had she not seen her true feelings then? And he had held her in the wee hours as they slept- she had woken briefly at a sound outside, only to be sleepily hushed and pulled into warm arms, against a warm, firm chest.

Gilbert loved her with every part of his Blythe-stubborn, Blythe-determined nature; frankly and whole-heartedly- and what had she offered him? A heart that was too afraid to risk, too stubborn to simply fall in love in any decent manner, she thought caustically. In an irony that would have pleased Shakespeare, the girl who had written a thousand romances was the one most resistant to her own.

Through the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions whirling within Anne, one feeling stood out above the rest- a deep, abiding relief. She'd worried, so deep inside that there must have been something wrong with her- wondering if perhaps she didn't have the capacity fall in love. Perhaps she _was_ broken. Roy's taunting words had only served to echo her own fears- yet another thing that had contributed to the storm of the night of the ball. She'd honestly wondered- after all, what woman could live with Gilbert Blythe and _not_ be bowled over by his heart, his generous nature, his laughter and the practical bent that served as a counterpoint to her own impulsive spirit? Somewhere inside, she could finally relax- the precipice she had both feared and longed for had already been leapt over- and by a much younger Anne, who had probably tossed her red head and denied the possibility immediately. She couldn't help but smile at this thought, even as the little ache in her chest reminded her of the miles that were already forming between Gilbert and herself now.

* * *

When Anne arrived back at the Blythe farm, Amelia was there to meet her at the doorway, an anxious look on her face. "Oh, I'm so glad you are safe, dear- I was worried when you took so long coming home. I don't know what we would tell either Marilla or Gilbert if something happened to you."

John Blythe was washing up at the sink, and he only chuckled. "Milly, I told Anne to take her time. It's a pretty piece of road in the summertime."

Anne admitted quietly that the road was lovely- however, this was an observation purely from memory; she had an uncomfortable feeling that she had hardly seen the road at all that day.

Anne's unusual silence was noticed, and soon John suggested that he would drive Anne over to Green Gables whenever she was ready to go. Amelia had shot him a faintly worried look, however, John had shaken his head at his wife, reminding her that the children would sort themselves out in their own time- she wasn't to meddle.

Anne moved to the Blythe's spare room to pack up the last of her belongings, and had to swallow back more tears. It was hard to believe that she wouldn't be sharing a room with him for the next three months. The tie that Gilbert had worn to the wedding lay discarded on the floor, and his neatly folded handkerchief lay on the dresser. The tie she packed into her own bags, a lump in her throat. After today, she had promised herself that she would lift her chin and get on with the business of life- and the ten weeks would pass swiftly enough. September would beckon, and they would be together once more. She smiled then, pressing the handkerchief to her lips before placing it in her pocket. Her cheeks flushed, her mind now turning to the next time she would see Gilbert again- back in their home, she would finally tell him. She would tell him that she loved him- and she would have a lifetime to show him how much.

* * *

It was nearing eleven that morning when John Blythe dropped Anne off at Green Gables with her luggage. He greeted Marilla easily as he placed her suitcase down in the kitchen, stooping to kiss Anne's cheek and to remind her that she could visit them any time. Anne would only nod as Marilla cordially invited the Blythes to come for dinner on Friday night- she would be leaving for Valley Road the following morning. She gave her father-in-law a quick hug and excused herself to take her belongings upstairs.

The east-gable bedroom was just as it had been five months ago- and yet the girl who knelt by its window now was not the same. Anne turned wistful eyes to the view from her old room. Over the fields she could see the window that had once been Diana's at Orchard Slope, and in the other direction was the Blythe's farm, hidden by the Haunted Wood. It was _wrong_ , she thought rebelliously. It was wrong to be away from him now- It was wrong to become again the girl she was- and she couldn't simply pretend that that nothing had changed.

Marilla found Anne upstairs twenty minutes later, her hat discarded and her glossy red head resting against the windowsill. She was relieved to have her girl at home for a time, however, she was unable to keep the amused look off her face at the sight of Anne's dispirited manner.

"I was going to tell you that I have plum puffs about to come out of the oven- but I seem to remember that they won't do anything for a mind _diseased_."

Anne looked up with a faint laugh, pausing to wipe damp eyes. "I can't believe you remember me saying that." She rose from the floor, hunting for her handkerchief in her small bag. "I used to make them for the girls whenever they were sad, sometimes," she admitted with a slight smile.

"I assume that Gilbert is the lucky recipient of those, now."

Marilla watched a spasm cross Anne's face as she tried to still her shaking voice. "He is. Although truthfully he- he rarely gets upset." At this unlucky juncture the memory of his white face that night came to mind, and Anne startled Marilla by sitting down on the bed and dissolving into tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Good heavens, child," Marilla said in dismay, coming to sit beside her carefully. "He's only away for the summer- and you'll be leaving, yourself, soon."

"I know that," Anne sobbed, vainly hunting for a dry spot on the already sodden fabric in her hand. "And a year ago I could have seen him gone for a few months without taking on so, even though apparently I've been in love with him for years- and this revelation comes just four days too late to stop me from hurting Gilbert more terribly that I have ever hurt him before, Marilla. But I didn't _know_ , and when he said it, I panicked, and I-"

"Anne, for heaven's sakes, do slow down a little," Marilla said brusquely. She brushed a red curl back from her pale face with a gentle hand. "You can tell me all about it calmly. I suppose this is what made the two of you so silent since you came home- I've never seen a more woebegone pair. Take a few minutes to freshen up, and I'll fix us a cup of tea; then we can talk properly."

Anne blinked swollen eyes, her lips trembling. "But won't Mrs Lynde-"

"She's over at the Harrison's with the twins," Marilla stated, standing up. "She and Dora are helping Mrs Harrison with some sewing for her visiting niece- and I sent Davy over there to get him out of my hair. He's been badgering me for a week to let him raise some calves on the lower field- and I don't want the bother of any extra livestock."

Anne rose on shaky legs, chuckling slightly. "Davy is a born farmer, Marilla. You remember his ants, of course."

"I'm not likely to forget them, am I? I never did recover that saucepan."

* * *

After a time Anne came back down to the quiet kitchen, and sat down in the chairs that Matthew and Marilla's father had made. Marilla poured her a cup of tea and sat back, her eyes firmly on the girl's sober face. After a moment, Anne began to unfold the whole story to Marilla, sparing neither herself or Gilbert in her retelling of the past six months. There was a strange relief in doing so, she found; and if Marilla saw more in her words than Anne realised, Anne was unaware.

Marilla's voice was quiet, then. "So you _do_ love him, then."

"More than anything in the world, Marilla," Anne said slowly, crumbling a perfect plum puff into pieces on her plate. "I don't know why I never saw it. Gilbert was- always there. I- I didn't want anyone else with me, as long as he didn't change. But he was changing, especially after we left for Redmond. He was getting too close- and he- he just didn't look like the ideal that I had in my mind- I didn't think Gilbert could really be in love with me."

Marilla had remained silent up until this point, however, there was a disbelief that now crossed her face. "Anne, that boy has been crazy about you since-"

"Since I hit him with a slate, I know," Anne said drearily. "But I didn't know that I could feel the same way about him. And his face the other night- I've never _seen_ him look that way before. I hurt him so terribly- I was completely irrational. We were tired, and said such awful things to each other."

Marilla sighed, resignedly. "It was an argument, Anne. Folks have them."

"Well, we haven't up until now," Anne muttered crossly.

Marilla clasped her hands, her eyes sharp. "Anne, I've heard the pair of you bellowing at each other down the lane-"

"We don't now that we're married," Anne insisted. "And I had hoped that we would never stoop to it again."

Marilla leant forward, her hand coming to rest on the girl who was like her own flesh and blood. Her voice was unusually gentle. "Anne, you've got some foolish idea that people change who they are when they marry- or even when they discover that they love each other."

"Well, shouldn't they?"

Marilla shook her head. "You and Gilbert by nature are two stubborn, hot-headed people, who disagreed often enough as friends- why should you be any different as a married couple?"

Anne stood up in frustration, turning to pace the kitchen. "Because we could really hurt each other, now! There isn't an escape from each other's company- and I never want to live through four days like this again!"

Marilla looked at Anne thoughtfully. "And what does Gilbert have to say about it?"

Anne flung herself down on the kitchen sofa with a heavy sigh. "That it was just a fight. But he doesn't know- he _can't_ have seen what an unhappy husband and wife can do to each other," she said unsteadily. "How much more for _us_ , who have had such a volatile past?"

Marilla moved to her rocking chair and sat down with a slight groan. "Anne, for pity's sake, do stop moving around- I spend enough time chasing Davy around the house."

Anne was silent as she slipped down onto the mat beside her, laying her red head against her knee like the child she had once been. Marilla was quiet for a time, tenderly stroking her hair. After Matthew had died, it had been their way of staying close- and the twenty-one year old reminded her strongly of the highly strung girl she had been so long ago. Marilla's mouth quirked into a little smile.

"You haven't really seen many normal marriages Anne," Marilla commented. "And you need to remember who Gilbert's father is. John Blythe has a temper all of his own- I dare say Gilbert has seen plenty of arguments in his time."

Anne shook her head. "Mr Blythe wouldn't be like that."

Marilla's laugh was heartfelt, and Anne looked up in surprise. "Oh, Anne, he was as hot-headed as ever you and Gilbert were. And can you imagine Amelia Blythe being too afraid to make her opinions known?"

Anne shook her head, her brow lowered.

"It's normal, Anne. You and Gilbert will fight- and you'll fight because you care. Lord knows I'm no expert on marriage- you can talk to Rachel if you want her perspective on that. But as I see it, if you didn't care, you wouldn't bother fighting to get on the same page." She sighed, then. "I'm afraid having Matthew as a father figure spoiled you, Anne. He always was a gentle soul- I don't suppose I ever heard him raise his voice at anyone besides the livestock."

Anne was still, her eyes on the fireplace. "He was just what I needed then, Marilla," she said softly.

"I know he was." Marilla was quiet then, her hand resting on Anne's soft hair. "Gilbert Blythe loves you, Anne. He's loved you all along- I knew that years ago. A fight won't change anything- and it sounds as if you both needed to start being honest with each other."

Anne exhaled. "Everyone tried to tell me, Marilla," she said, her voice weary. "People here, people at college- but I was waiting to feel _something_ \- a falling- when I already had. All this time I kept wondering when it would happen- and then I thought there was something wrong with me when it didn't," Anne faltered. "And then I saw him leave today- and I _knew_. And he's gone, and I- I couldn't even tell him. And I need to tell him in person. If I'd known- I would have told him the other night, and maybe we wouldn't have-"

Her voice was rapidly growing more hysterical again, until she felt Marilla tap her head reprovingly. In shock, she looked up to see her guardian's head shake. "Things have a funny way of working out just how they're meant to. You and Gilbert, the accident- even the past week. And if I'm not mistaken, I think you needed to know what you could lose, Anne."

Enormous grey eyes blinked up at her, and Marilla half-smiled. "You've fought this so stubbornly, Anne. You didn't want to see it- probably because no one in this town could give you the space to discover it for yourself."

"Except Gilbert himself, it seems," Anne mumbled.

"Indeed." Marilla laughed, then. "Oh, the number of times I had Rachel tell me that it was foreordained that the two of you be together- heaven knows, I wanted it myself. But then I'd hear Rachel pronounce on it, and I could just see you digging your heels in even further."

Anne groaned. "I know. I just worry that I've ruined everything between us by taking so long."

Marilla chuckled and rose to throw some more wood into the stove, moving the kettle back to heat again. "Gilbert doesn't strike me as the sort to give up, Anne."

To this, his wife laughed, the sound surprisingly bright after the storm of the morning. "No, he's really not."

"Then why assume it's all over?" Marilla said comfortably. "You talked before he left, didn't you?"

At this, a hot blush spread over Anne's features at the memory of the previous night's _non_ -discussion, and her grey eyes fell. "Not- er- not exactly, Marilla."

The older woman came to sit down again, her face blanching uncomfortably. "Anne, are the two of you intimate?"

Anne choked slightly at Marilla's bluntness, however she shook her head.

"No, Marilla," Anne said quickly. "We _can't_ , not yet- not for a long time. Gilbert wants to go to medical school- I don't want to take that chance from him."

Marilla sat back, oddly relieved. "Good. I don't mean to pry, Anne, but I didn't care for the idea of you potentially being with child, and working so far from your husband."

Anne smiled faintly. "No, there's no danger of that, yet."

Marilla's eyes were suddenly sharp. "I'm sure you've heard Rachel's opinions about the marriage bed, Anne-"

Anne's cheeks flushed again. "Enough, I think."

"I think we _all_ have," Marilla muttered, under her breath. She turned back to Anne sternly. "Now, it's only an old maid's opinion, but I think what's between a man and a woman should stay that way- meaning it's your business what happens between you and Gilbert, and no one else. But I can't say that I've ever liked the idea that a woman has to put up with things without voicing an opinion, at least."

Anne's laugh was genuine this time, and she gave an affectionate look to the woman who had raised her. Anne took Marilla's work-worn hand in her own. "You do understand that _you_ were just what I needed when I came to Green Gables, don't you? Not just Matthew. I needed his gentleness- but I needed you to ground me- and to teach me that it's alright to be independent."

Marilla's lips curved into a smile. "I think you knew that anyhow, Anne."

Anne sighed. "I needed to learn how to be part of a family- and to be independent for my own sake, not just because I was afraid to trust people."

Marilla eyed Anne in regret. "Anne, I assume that you have told Gilbert everything-"

Anne bit her lip, her face troubled. "I- no. I do need to do that."

"Anne, I thought you would have done that years ago!" Marilla said, aghast. "What on earth did you talk about, all this time then?"

"Oh, this and that," Anne joked tiredly. "The future- our ambitions, current events- certainly not the past." She sighed, her heart heavy. "He knows that I need to tell him some things. I told him I would write to him about it."

"You don't think he should hear it from you in person?"

Anne tried to gather the composure that was slipping. "No. I- I don't think I could do it- you know that I don't like to dwell on that time. I didn't even realise that it was affecting us- I didn't know that it still affected me."

Marilla's look was shrewd as she stirred some sugar into her tea. "Of course it does, Anne. Matthew and I knew that."

Anne's mouth dropped open in surprise, and she found herself suddenly bristling. "Good heavens, did _everyone_ know what a mess I was, Marilla?"

Marilla chuckled. "Anne, you don't take in an eleven-year-old orphan- one who had never had a stable or loving home before without expecting some problems," she said calmly. "Now, you may not have put strychnine in the well, as Rachel was good enough to suggest before you came, but it was evident that you'd been through a lot. I was at my wit's end about what to do with you, half the time."

Anne gave a faint smile. "I thought that was because I created the problems."

"No, it was because you _had_ problems, Anne," Marilla corrected her carefully. "We weren't going to take you in without trying to be a proper family for you- and Matthew did it better than I did. With me, you could be as jumpy as a rabbit, back then. I sometimes wondered if I reminded you of those other women you'd lived with. I was up talking to Rachel at least once a week, trying to figure out what to do with you."

"And she suggested that I might poison you then?"

Marilla's laugh was real, and she shook her head. "No, not after your apology, Anne. You won her over. She was the one to point out to me that you might have some trauma- she'd seen it in a family that lived in Avonlea once. I don't know if I would have seen it, myself."

Anne nodded, still somewhat shocked by the perceptiveness of those around her. As the clock chimed midday, Marilla settled back on her chair with a keen look at the girl before her.

"Anne, you've belonged to us for a decade, now. You're a university student, an accomplished teacher- you have a family, friends everywhere, a husband and _his_ family, who love you- you aren't the forlorn child who arrived here ten years ago. You've made your mistakes, and no doubt Gilbert has too- but you've all the time in the world to make it right, now. The two of you are far too stubborn to give up- not when you care for each other as you do."

Anne nodded, her heart beginning to settle at Marilla's words. The two women chatted a little longer until a cheery holler was heard from the yard. Anne rose from her chair to see Davy leaping the yard fence, and Mrs Lynde following behind with a sedate Dora. She couldn't keep the smile from her face at the sight of her family, and Marilla joined Anne, placing a thin arm around her shoulders.

"We're real glad to have you home for a few days, Anne- the children have been wild with excitement about you coming. Rachel has been almost as bad, in her own way."

Anne slipped her arms around Marilla's waist, relishing in the warmth and love she found at Green Gables. She needed to visit Dryad's Bubble- and she might take the twins of a picnic to the lake of Shining Waters, if the weather was fine. Perhaps Marilla would even let her cook dinner, one evening.

"You know that we love our Mushroom, Marilla," Anne said dreamily, sounding more like herself than she had been of late. "But it's wonderful to become Anne of Green Gables for a short time again."


	26. Chapter 26, Lifelines

**Thank you all so much for being patient, I'm gradually realising that this slow pace has to become normal, now! I'm so glad that you have enjoyed the last few chapters. Now, I never planned to write our couple being apart for long, so I won't be writing a blow-by-blow summer for this pair- you can expect us to skip through it faster than we have the last six months! I'm beyond blessed at the way you have responded to this story and am so grateful for your messages and reviews.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26**

 _Wayside_

 _Valley Road_

 _Vaguely to the North of You_

 _Honoured sir,_

 _We've had so many firsts, Gil, and here is another: the first letter you have ever received from your wife. I shall attempt to make it memorable. Your own letters were a lifeline for me last summer- you made me laugh and kept me connected to both home and Redmond at the same time- I enjoyed them so much more than I ever told you, I think. Well, now I can tell you freely; keep up the good work, Mr Blythe. Mrs Blythe is at present writing from the parlour of Janet Sweet of Wayside, a cosy room stuffed with furnishings, and just made for two. It is shadowed by a large willow tree that Janet's father planted long ago- against the advice of his wife, apparently, who declared it much too close to the house. It is, really, however there it has remained out of respect, dwarfing the western side of the house- the overall effect inside is quite pretty, and the summer sunshine is muted into a grotto-like gloom that thrills me._

 _Your letter was waiting for me on Monday afternoon, a bountiful greeting at the end of my first day- and I am relieved to hear that your work at the paper is something you are enjoying. How are you finding your boardinghouse? Are you finding it as strange as I am to not have a brown ceiling as you sleep? Heaven forbid that we have grown accustomed to sleeping in our cave-like Mushroom!_

 _As for myself, I can fairly state that I couldn't have found a better situation. The school is modern and well-equipped, and the board very pleased to have me here- I have a feeling that Esther was pushing herself for some time until someone could be found to take her class. She will be well in time, I believe; Janet tells me that she was very drained after a bout of pneumonia in the spring._

 _Wayside is a dear little home, and Janet the undisputed queen of housekeepers- who met me at the door at once with a cordial greeting for Miss Blythe_, _if you please. I confess that it took me a moment or so to respond that there was no Miss Blythe, only a Mrs\- only to have Janet all aflutter, stating hysterically that she hadn't room for a husband as well!_

 _After a good cup of tea, I was able to explain the circumstances of our time apart. If she thought it strange that we got married in the middle of college she certainly didn't say so, and she was most interested to hear about you, our plans, and our wee home in the city._

 _My room here is only a little bigger than our annexe, in fact, and over my bed hangs a cheerful picture of Robby Burns standing over Highland Mary's grave. It's not particularly comforting at the moment when the local gossip is that you have gone to a 'better place'- but more on that later. It's no wonder I have bad dreams. Why_ , _the first night I was here I dreamed I couldn't laugh!* I have taken to re-reading your letter each night before I go to sleep, in the hopes that your natural cheer will dispel poor Robby's infectious misery._

 _The class has been going quite well, so far. Esther is a stickler for preparation and left her materials ready- all of the usual classes, of course, including half an hour each day for physical activity. I have been using these to take the children on nature walks, as Miss Stacey did with us. I look forward to our outings as much as the children do- I am convinced that the outside world is a wonderful teacher in itself. The children are coming around slowly, the poor mites; they are very attached to Esther. I have a shy little miss who has not spoken a word to me yet- her mother implores me to keep trying, she is sure the girl will warm up soon; a round little fellow who walks with the solemnity of a judge and cannot spell to save himself. His father is the local banker, and he insists on calling me Mrs Blythe most properly- the rest of the class need to be reminded to stop calling me Miss, at times._

 _I also have a ten-year-old lad with a shock of curly hair who is quite brilliant at mathematics- and of course, he is the one who torments the girls. You will guess who he reminds me of. I solemnly warned him that I once knew a fellow who behaved so and that such behaviour set him firmly on a path to matrimony with one of his classmates. Later I caught him eying the girls in the class with an abject look of horror_ , _and he has subsequently been quite well-behaved for the past two days._

 _Meanwhile, my sojourn here is a pleasant one. The school is a pleasant walk from Wayside, and Janet is a pearl amongst women. She declares that I am much too thin for her taste, (and blames the demands of college on that) and is taking great delight in cooking all sorts of indigestible things for me to eat. I have a slight suspicion that there is someone whom she would much rather be caring for instead- a devoted gentleman caller who worships the very ground she walks on. I cannot fault him for that._

 _The gentleman in question is a Mr John Douglas- he is an older man who makes the word tall seem hopelessly inadequate. Not handsome exactly, but steady and strong, with a patient, humorous endurance in his expression- as if he would go to the stake if need be, but he would keep on looking pleasant until he really had to begin squirming.* I like him very much- and I feel that you would like him too, Gil. He persists in his bemusement that I am old enough to be married- a popular opinion here in Valley Road. It might also amuse you to know that most of the townsfolk are quite convinced that you are dead._

 _This will be the only time I travel to a new town in my dark grey suit- it seemed only sensible, with the soot from the train- as I am immediately supposed to have tragically lost you as soon as they see my wedding ring. ("Oh, but my dear! You must have been an infant when you married him…") On my first buggy-ride in town, Mrs Amelia Skinner clucked over me with great sympathy, and regaled me with stories of her own widowhood- and she assured me that since she had found romance again, I would likely do so as well. I was to keep my chin resolutely up. I did attempt to stop her tirade halfway through, however, it was rather like stopping a runaway horse. Eventually, I made her understand that you were alive and well and in Halifax for work over the summer. She was a little dubious about that: apparently, there are many 'indecent misses' in the big cities, and she exhorts you to be on your guard._

 _A working married woman, Gilbert?! Heaven forbid, out here. While the townsfolk are getting used to the idea, I find myself talking about you constantly to remind them that you are alive. Inevitably then, I get inquiries after your health, your meal preferences, what work you are doing at the moment. So please, keep sending long, newsy letters- it gives me all manner of things to talk about with them. And it makes it easier- it keeps you present with me. Writing to you helps, as well. I think you and I might be rather good at this..._

 _You may laugh, and I make myself do so at times- however, I find that underneath the pleasant comings and goings here, I feel strangely alone, in a town bigger than Avonlea. I feel oddly halved. And no, I don't 'almost' wish we could have stayed for the summer, Gil- of course, I do. While our motives are pure- in the sense that we do need the money for next year- more than anything, I wish that you and I had been able to stay in Avonlea together. You said to me some time ago that you wished us to court properly- and I find myself wishing that we could do that here, on our island. We've never been together with time to spend at home. Perhaps we should plan to do that the summer after we graduate- especially with medical school looming so close the following year. I wonder if away from the constant work and pressure of college life we would find our roots again- and perhaps we would start afresh. Avonlea always seemed to be touched by a fairytale, to me- I have no doubt that in our hometown we would find ourselves, and each other again. As it is, we must wait to be together._

 _Miss Lavender made sure to remind me that they will not be home at all this summer, and suggested that you and I should stay at Echo Lodge if we ever wished for some time to ourselves while we here. I confess, I cried at the letter Marilla forwarded me- I would love nothing more than to set up there for the summer, to have our loved ones visit us there, and to make ourselves at home with the echoes and the woods. Miss Lavender is astute of course; she reminded me that we must remember to take care of our marriage in all of our busyness. To be doing so at a distance is certainly more painful that I could have expected._

 _In between my classes and other sundry duties here (and certain outings expected of a Presbyterian and schoolmarm- I shall, of course, attend prayer meeting with Janet this week) I have found myself imagining us there at the stone house. We go on our old walks and picnic outside in the sunshine each day. You remember the cool of the stone house in the summertime, the little kitchen- the fields surrounding it where wild strawberries and even wilder blueberries can be found. We might attend the bonfire that Moody's parents are having next week, or go to your parent's house for tea on Sundays. Davy would expect you to take him fishing, of course- and you would come home to me smelling of lake-water and lake-trout. Marilla and Mrs Lynde would come with Dora to the house, by buggy, of course- I shouldn't want the older women walking all that way in the heat._

 _You and I could even go to those places we were never bold enough to venture unchaperoned. No one could complain about us visiting the_ rocky _shores near the cape now, and exploring the caves and abandoned lighthouse- no one could complain about us getting lost in the Haunted Wood, for that matter. Mrs Lynde never did approve of that. I imagine seeing your apple tree deep in the woods in bloom- you took me there just before we left Avonlea for the first time- you made me remember why we were stretching our wings. I have never been back there without you- to me, it always seemed to be your spot. If I were to go there alone, I fear that I would become either maudlin or else so cross at you for not being here that you may not wish to come home in September. We could go to Hester's garden, and row on the pond in the moonlight, and visit the new Mr and Mrs Wright in their home- and other times, simply remain at home before our own fireside._

 _When I was a child in other homes, fire was merely warmth and fuel- I learned at Green Gables that it could be home and haven, a place to dwell with those you love. Matthew would sit with his pipe working on harnesses and his tools, listening to me prattle about schoolwork and the girls and a particularly annoying boy who kept beating me at geometry. I would wager that you had no idea I was talking about you to the degree that I did: Matthew certainly heard your name quite often by our fireside. He and Marilla were my home then- as you are mine now._

* * *

On a Sunday afternoon in early July, Gilbert sat out on a rock overlooking the Atlantic ocean. Anne's most recent letter was in his hand, and the wind whipped around him crazily as he stared over choppy waves. He reached up the heel of his hand to roughly wipe away a tear, his jaw clenched as he battled the storm of raging emotions inside.

Anne's first letters when she had arrived at Wayside were everything he had come to expect from her. They were warm and full of description of the places and people she had met, introducing him to what would be her world for the summer. He'd wondered if she would begin to talk about the things that had concerned her over past months, however so far eight letters had arrived from her- he'd had to apologise in his last, knowing that he couldn't even pretend to match her output; eight letters in, and her writing was still cheerful, whimsical and filled with the spirit of the girl he loved. Gilbert was able to read in them more than she had written- she was doing well. There was a peace to her now, and inside, he began to relax, now able to turn his thoughts to his own work properly.

Gilbert had been pushed into a desk within minutes of his arrival, and would apparently be up to his eyeballs in punctuations and split infinitives for the next ten weeks, filling in for the editor's main proof-reader. The pace was relentless, and assignments piled up around him from harried co-workers, all needing work to be checked before it went to print. He'd checked shipping forecasts and trade news, advertisements and articles from journalists across Canada, an advice column and a story that was being serialized in the Halifax Times- all while disgustedly thinking that Anne could write a better one standing on her head. The atmosphere was energetic and driven, and the work almost second nature to Gilbert after two years of teaching, and three of university. On Saturday he would finish his work by midday, and amused himself by exploring the streets of the city in the daylight. When the sun began to set he would head for home to bury his head in his books again for the evening, save a blessed half hour to read and re-read Anne's letters before he went to sleep. So it had gone for three weeks now, and every day he was just as impatient to see if a letter was waiting for him.

On this particular Friday, he stood by as the housekeeper sorted the mail, shaking her head at his eagerness.

"Mr Blythe, you received a letter from her two days ago," she said reprovingly. "Your wife _is_ teaching at the moment, isn't she?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Anne is a prolific writer, Mrs Andrews. I never know when she will find time to slip one in the mail."

The older lady handed the rest of the pile to Gilbert, highly amused as she placed Anne's latest in his outstretched hand. "Three letters in one week, My Blythe. I wonder that she has time to do anything on that island of yours."

Gilbert took the letter with a delighted look that he could not hide, and his hazel eyes were warm as he felt the weight of the envelope. Some of her letters had been long, some short, and he could picture her red head bent over the desk, her pen moving swiftly across the paper. The post office was beside the school, she had said, almost in apology- it was too easy to send the sheets she was working on at the time, rather than wait. She was busy, he knew- and glad to find herself so, in the sleepy inland town. She had her class, her own work from Professor Winston, and was keeping up a voluminous correspondence with the girls, with Green Gables and Diana- not to mention the hours that she spent writing to him. He couldn't help but smile at the way she teased him, slipping in little comments that let him know how much he was missed. For himself, he was unsurprised to find that her absence was tangible, and never more so than at night when he blew out his lamp. He sighed heavily, remembering what it had been like to wake in the darkness, Anne's warm body pressed tightly against his, even in sleep. That night together had marked a turning point for the two of them- and he could only hope that his wife was growing as ready as he was for the change that was happening now.

As Gilbert climbed the stairs to his room this night, a puzzled frown came over his face as he looked down at the letter. It was thick, even for Anne's standards- and there was something about the writing that made him oddly uneasy. The address was hastily scrawled, her name missing from the back of the envelope- and yet it was undoubtedly from her. He threw the other letters on his desk and locked the bedroom door, suddenly fearful that this was the letter he had been waiting for.

* * *

An hour later, a shaken Gilbert sat on his bed in the twilight, the strange, red glow of sunset filling the room. Anne's letter lay open in his hands, and a blank look was on his face as he stared out of the window.

How had he known her for so long without knowing this? How had she hidden it? He'd walked, and talked and learned with her for years, with no idea what secrets lay behind the grey eyes he adored. The panic rose in his chest as he realised how thoroughly Anne had buried this from everyone, including herself. He couldn't have known when he was a boy- but how dare he make fun of her all those years ago- how dare he assume that everyone's background was as comparatively free of pain as his own had been?

There was a knock on his door then, and Gilbert roused himself enough to tell a concerned Mrs Sadler that he wasn't hungry. His eyes returned to the pages before him with a heavy sigh. He'd been so desperate to see her open up to him- and he sickly realised that he was responsible for the vulnerable way she now wrote- putting herself through hurt to ease his mind. It was the biggest gesture of trust she could give him- and with a nightmarish feeling inside, he wished that he had never pushed her to share, at least before she was ready. Clearly now, she was. The gas lamp on the street was beginning to bleed into the dark room, and he raised the pages to read them again, determined to not miss anything.

 _Gilbert,_

 _Please forgive my abruptness- I have started this letter so many times, only to find that there isn't a good way to do so. I've wondered for some time if I did you a disservice in marrying you without telling you about myself. We've been good friends for five years now- the same period of time I spent not talking to you, in fact. It should assure me that you know me very well._

 _I fear the reverse is true, sometimes. I hide from some things, you see. I should have scorned the person who told me that, once upon a time- and not so long ago you accused me of holding myself back from you. And I did._

 _I could give you all sorts of reasons why- I could tell you I was afraid, or that I didn't think we were well suited to each other, back then- I could even tell you that I went looking for my ideals outside of myself. All would be true to a degree. You told me that I never allowed my defences to fall around you- but you don't realise that they did, Gil. All but the biggest; and no one has ever been allowed behind that. Not Di, not the girls- and not you. We once talked about scars- and I remember that you asked me about mine. I didn't answer you, as I recall. You've seen more of them than anyone ever has, though- you just didn't know what they were. To be truthful, perhaps I didn't either._

 _On a recommendation from Professor Winston, I began to write something several months ago. I thought that perhaps I could write it for myself, or maybe I could set the record straight- maybe I could give a voice to those who grew up in environments as damaging as my own. And I tried to write it. I tried to put words to the pain, hoping to make it vanish from me altogether- and yet it didn't. Instead, it began to throb inside me in a way it hasn't done in years. I found more brokenness inside me than I have ever acknowledged. I wondered if I should show you the story then- and yet I was concerned that you would somehow blame yourself for what you knew, that I would always see the shadow of it on your face. I decided that I had to prove to you that I was fine- I didn't want you to think of me as broken._

 _A month ago- just before the ball- I burned it all. It said too much, and yet it didn't say nearly enough. I decided that I couldn't share it with anyone. I was so angry at myself for stirring it all up inside me again- not when I had worked for ten long years to leave the past behind. I decided that you didn't need to know, that we would simply go on as we were- but after our fight, my heart broke when I realised that it was all connected- you and I, my past, and our future- I tied you into all of that without telling you why. I didn't even understand it myself._

 _This is what I remember of my life before Green Gables._

Gilbert sat on his bed in the darkness, for a long time silent and unmoving. Normally by now, he would have changed from his suit, left his room for dinner, or settled onto his bed to read. He couldn't, on this night. Slowly, he rose to light the lamp on his desk, the pages fluttering to his feet as he moved. The last page containing few words other than her signature- _Love, Anne._ The image of the girl he loved pierced his heart then, her bright smile and silky red curls, her wit and her temper and her laughter- these were all Anne, and yet there had been something missing in his picture: now, beside her stood a shadowy girl, the one he had never known- Anne, young and vulnerable and hurting more than any child should ever have done. Gilbert lurched over to the washbowl to splash his face, feeling sick in body and soul, wishing he was with her, willing to do anything to remove the latent hurt from her grey eyes. Almost he wished that she hadn't told him, that he had never known.

He knew _now_.

He knew that she had worked: she had often told stories of the houses and the children, but more had sat on her young shoulders than she should have carried. It had been little more than slavery, working from dawn to dusk for people who demeaned her, demanding that she be grateful to have a roof over her head. Overworked and abused by the people she'd served; she'd been beaten, whipped cruelly when she was barely of school age after breaking something. She described briefly the way that Marilla had reacted to the long scars across her back- and been told many years later that Matthew had cried when he was informed about them. Gilbert's own shoulders shook now. His beloved girl had known hunger, injury, deprivation and neglect. There was no self-pity in the way that she wrote it- as a matter of fact, the letter was clinical and devoid of the warmth she usually wrote with. He thought that he understood why. She had separated this from herself- what was contained inside was a statement of fact, and only now could he see why she kept this part of herself so buried within.

Now two days after the letter arrived, Gilbert stood up and wandered down to the water's edge, the crumpled letter stuffed into his pockets again. He'd spent the past day trying to process what Anne had shared, somehow trying to align the two Anne's in his mind. He looked out on the grey water with stormy eyes, wondering how on earth she had survived. Of course, she had answered this herself in her letter.

 _I could read, thanks to the school that Mrs Thomas insisted I attend in the winter. I proved a quick study, and had soon read every book on the Thomas' bookshelf. Her father had once been a teacher, and had a few good books, including a selection of religious tomes, Classical Mythology, and what might loosely be described as fairy tales. I used to read them to the children at nighttime to get them to sleep- the oldest Thomas boy would make fun of me, saying that I was pretending to be better than I was. I vaguely remember being stung into telling him that I was better than I was- and was taught yet another lesson about giving cheek. School was harder to attend when I lived with the Hammonds, and I certainly couldn't keep up with other students- but I could best them in English. I suppose it was something I understood instinctively. I wasn't allowed to read there- however I found that I could recall the stories and poems I had read; and my own, of course, went with me everywhere. I hid in them when there wasn't enough food, or when Mr and Mrs Hammond were angry with me- or with each other._

 _I told you that I had never seen a real marriage, Gil. I saw pain and heartache- I saw violence and poverty and constant fighting between husbands and wives- and at the time, I believed that whatever happened in the bedroom must be bad. I made the children stay clear of their mother afterwards, in case they saw her crying. And I learned quickly that a person who is hurt and ashamed can be very, very dangerous._

 _I know that I dreamed of more. I dreamt of finding kindness in a family, of people who loved each other. Someone who wanted me exactly as I was. Heaven knows I was told often enough that no one ever would- hence my idea that a foreign missionary might one day take me as a wife- although perhaps my red hair might have made me a target for cannibals. I didn't think about that._

Gilbert couldn't help but chuckle through the tightness in his chest. He remembered the girl he had begun to know in school, even from a distance- the under-fed, too-thin figure; all elbows and knees and a sharply pointed chin. Plain, homemade dresses, bright eyes and red braids that made him overlook all of the other girls in their class. He loved her fire and her spirit, he loved the way she would stick her nose in the air when he sparred with her in class. He'd been just a boy, then, but it was the man he was now who ached for her presence- and learning of her past hurt him in ways he never knew he could.

 _I once said that the orphanage was the worst place I had ever lived- and I know that would sound strange. What could be worse than families who- and I only really began to understand this as an adult- were neglectful and abusive? And yet it was. It was still better than belonging to an institution. In those homes, I may have been unwelcome, but it was nothing to the soul-crushing sense that I mattered to no one- I was of no importance to the world, trapped together with other cast-off souls. Wearing cast-off clothing, eating cast-off food, all of us abandoned and alone. The idea of my parents had sustained me through my childhood- Mrs Thomas at least had remembered them, and I treasured up every detail she gave me, insignificant though they might have been to her. They were teachers in the local High school; they were very young, and apparently, I have my father's red hair. She supposed that I had my mother's eyes; something that was confirmed last summer, when I was given their letters in Bolingbroke. I wrote to you then, I know, Gil- I was so excited to be able to share with you that I'd found them, at last, in the pages of yesterday. I believed- no matter what happened to me at the other homes, I knew that they at least had loved me, and would have kept loving me had they raised me- they wouldn't have minded my absent-minded ways, they would have read me stories, and cared for me and taught me and tucked me into bed each night. I imagined that I still belonged to them, whenever I was alone. And yet, surrounded by so many people, it was only in the orphanage that I grew desolate. I was trapped, and as irrationally angry as a ten-year-old could be,_ at _parents they had never known- and in that place, I was wracked with hurt that they had abandoned me. I knew that it wasn't logical- but I couldn't help but feel it, in the very core of my unloved heart. And yet something of them must have remained in me- something of me must have stayed- the spark that probably caused the orphanage a good deal of trouble. Perhaps that was why they chose me to go to Green Gables._

Gilbert rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling as he took a last look at the inky ocean. The sun would soon set- and he had been admonished to be home for dinner promptly that night. He turned to climb back up the rocks, stopping to view the vast grey city sprawled along the shoreline. He couldn't help but smile, then. No matter the surroundings, Anne would have been so interested in all of it- she may have been a creature of the woods, as he himself was, however, the spirit of adventure was strong in her as well- and he remembered the fun they had had exploring Kingsport in the beginning together. He swallowed hard, as he nodded at a couple strolling down toward the water. How desperately he missed her being by his side- being home. She was right. Home wasn't a place; it was just Anne.

The letter called into question everything he thought he had known about his wife. No, not everything- he _knew_ her, he thought stubbornly. She hadn't been wrong about that. Still, what he didn't know had shifted his perspective. It made sense, somehow. Her very independence, her refusal to play the typical damsel in distress- how easily she had startled when they were younger: a fact he had often teased her about. She would share everything she had without restraint- and there was the protective, sometimes indulgent care she gave Davy and Dora. She had always been so grateful for her education, shaming his previous lack of concern about his own. He'd felt wretched when she had stopped going to school, seemingly because of him. He turned into the street the house lay on, a wry smile on his face. He'd made the mistake of saying that to her once after they had become friends- and then been treated to a discourse on why he, Gilbert Blythe, was not the centre of the universe. He remembered the way she often held the boys of their town at arm's length as they grew older- even the fact that she could keep a grudge against him for five years. Again, there was that wave of futile anger at himself. Why _should_ she have forgiven him? Why should she trust someone who hurt her on the very first day they met? How could his inadequate apologies have ever been enough?

He walked up the stairs to his room, his hazel eyes showing his abstraction. There were a few lines that had made him shiver. An undisclosed excerpt of her life in brief lines- an unknown man had grabbed her in the trees behind the Hammond's house. She had been fortunate- Mr Hammond had been close. Nine-year-old Anne had been pushed back toward the homestead, desperately trying to block out the sounds of what was happening behind her as she ran. No one ever brought up the incident again. Even Marilla had never known about that, and Gilbert was almost sick in his anguish at the very thought of what she had endured. How close had she come to losing her innocence- or had she come close to losing her very life that day?

With an effort, he reined in his wild thoughts. This was her past, not her present. She was still his Anne- still the fiery girl he had married, the dreamy, impulsive girl who sought beauty in the world around her, who forced him to work harder than he ever had in his life to keep up with her in school. Matthew and Marilla had rescued her, she had found love and acceptance with Diana; and thanks to Miss Stacey, she had taken her rightful place in the Avonlea schoolhouse. He lay back on his bed and sighed. No doubt as the daughter of two teachers, Anne's scholastic gift would have been identified early, had she been able to remain with them. They might have been poor, might have struggled- but they would have believed in her ambitions, in her very heart.

* * *

That night, Gilbert sat at his desk, a blank piece of paper before him, and an ache in his throat that wouldn't go away. Almost he rose, almost he reached for his bag- and yet somehow, it was the thought of Anne herself that made him pause. She had chosen to tell him now, when she didn't have to carry the burden of his reaction. She chose to leave it with him, in order for him to come to terms with it before she was with him again. And he needed to do that alone.

Gilbert rose suddenly, opening his window to breathe in the night air. The editor's home looked over the printing office, and in the darkness, he could hear the sound of the late-night presses, the click of horses moving up the street, and shouts coming from the nearby docks. The moon was rising, and in the distance, he could see its faint sparkle on dark waters. She was across other waters now, and he closed his eyes as he let the breeze wash over him, picturing the same moon shining down on her little room at Wayside.

He had to remember that was by choice that he was here- that she was there. If he left, if he sped to her side he didn't doubt that she would be glad to see him- but what would be the point? He wouldn't be able to leave her a second time.

Gilbert rubbed his face in the darkness, willing himself to remain steady. They had work to do now. All he could do was work, and wait and hope- and trust that the girl who was like his sunshine and air would be well and that she would return to him when the time was right. It was late when he folded a single page into the envelope, blowing out the lamp and undressing for bed, aching inside at the distance between them. He doggedly punched his pillow into submission, his jaw clenched. They would get through this, he thought stubbornly. And when the summer was over, he would never, ever leave her again.

* * *

Anne read his letter a week later, tucked away in her room at night as rain fell on the rooftops. Janet had thoughtfully left her in peace to read, sitting out on the porch talking with a visiting neighbour. Tears now fell onto the black, upright handwriting that Anne knew so well. Janet had brought her a cup of tea, assuming that Anne was merely homesick for her husband, reminding her that there were worse things than a three-month separation. In those tears though, was far more meaning- overwhelming gratitude for his love, sorrow for the pain for the way she would have caused by telling him of her background. Relief that at last Gilbert knew everything. For the stumbling way they had made it through six months of marriage, and for the many weeks that had gone by without being able to shout her love from the rooftops.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ he had written almost illegibly, the page in her hand smudged and creased. _Thank you for telling me. I don't know what to say about it yet- I don't suppose it would make any sense if I tried, even if there was a chance that it would be helpful._

 _I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I swear that I'm not trying to take the blame for something that isn't mine, but I can't not say it- I'm sorry that I didn't understand. I'm so sorry you were hurt, and I know that it's foolish- but it kills me to know that none of us could protect you back then. Matthew, Marilla, Diana and the girls and I- we would have done anything to take that pain from you. I know that we can't- I know that you don't need us to save you- and I know that you are already stronger than all of us put together, too. But I can't not want to stop you from ever hurting that way again._

 _It's taking everything I have to not pack my bags and fly to you- but I'm honouring our decision to go through with this. I'm working hard, because you and I have a future to work for, Anne. There's a future for us beyond this summer, beyond college- and I won't ever leave your side again. Keep having faith in us- please, somehow, keep having faith in me. I've made mistakes, I've hurt you terribly- but you have to know that I love you with every fibre of my being. I always have, and I always will. We're down to less than seven weeks, now. I'm counting down every one of them. I'm meeting you at the station at the end of August; and fair warning, I'm going to throw every last ounce of self-control out the window as soon as I see you- no matter who is watching._

 _All my love, darling girl- I'll write again soon._

 _Gilbert._


	27. Chapter 27, This Road we Walk

**Chapter 27**

On a clear evening in late July, Anne lifted her head from her work at the sound of the door. Janet had not yet arrived home from a call to her neighbour, and so Anne rose to answer it. She was startled to find John Douglas on the doorstep, his hat shifting nervously between large hands.

"Good evening, Mrs Blythe. Is Miss Sweet at home?"

Anne paused, her shoulders lifting in apology. "Mr Douglas, I'm afraid Janet hasn't arrived home- she went to assist Mrs Leander next door."

His face fell, however, he managed a small smile. "I suppose I shouldn't have assumed she would be here, Mrs Blythe. Would you be so kind as to give her my regards?"

On an impulse, Anne stopped him as he turned to go. "She will be home soon, I think, Mr Douglas- would you care to wait for her on the veranda? I was about to organise some tea for myself- and it's such a lovely evening outside." He hesitated, and Anne spoke carefully. "I know that Janet would be very sorry to miss you."

John looked over toward the nearby farmhouse and gave in with a slight smile. "Thank you. I will wait for her, I believe."

A few minutes later Anne emerged from the house to lay the tray on the table, as John unfolded his long legs to stand. Anne waved him back to his seat with a chuckle. "You remind me of my husband, Mr Douglas- he comes to his feet so quickly when a lady enters the room."

John smiled, sitting back down again. "A gentleman should."

"Indeed. I suppose that would be your mother's fault- a gentleman is made by his mother, I believe."

"I- I suppose so." He seemed uneasy, and Anne poured the tea, her grey eyes studying him furtively. The prayer meeting fiasco had been the previous week- and her heart twinged now at the memory of his face when Janet refused him.

John appeared to rouse himself to make conversation over his drink. "Mrs Blythe, may I inquire after your husband? I trust that he is well?"

Anne smiled, passing a plate of cookies to the older man. "He is. He was busy proofreading a series of articles about farming, in his last letter. Something about the shift from wheat to mixed farming since confederation."

A humorous look passed over John's weather-worn face. "I see. And does young Mr Blythe know anything about the subject?"

A spark of green flared in Anne's grey eyes, although her voice remained mild. "Gilbert is the son and grandson of a farmer, Mr Douglas," she said, her chin lifting slightly. "He was out on the land from the time he could walk."

Unbeknownst to Anne, John hid a smile at Anne's obviously protective manner. "I see. Forgive me, Mrs Blythe. I assumed that the two of you grew up in the city."

"No. We lived just a few hours by train from here, actually. In Avonlea."

To her surprise, he bowed his head in deference and took up the cup that Janet always saved for him. "I subscribe to a few farming periodicals, Mrs Blythe; perhaps I should buy the Halifax Times, this week." There was a silence for a time, and when Anne looked up at Janet's guest, she saw a shadow fall over his face. "You are fortunate, I think. To have come together so young," he said quietly.

Anne floundered a little. "I- I suppose we do seem young to be so settled; yes."

There was a long pause as John Douglas shifted on his seat uncomfortably, a slight coolness appearing in his manner as he cleared his throat. "I wondered if you would explain to me what happened at the prayer meeting last week," he said, at last, his tone unyielding. "You- you indicated that you had suggested that Janet refuse when I asked to see her home from prayer meeting. I don't understand."

Anne paled slightly. "I did. I am very sorry, Mr Douglas- it was unforgivable of me to interfere. You must have seen that Janet didn't wish to do it."

John's eyes held her own steadily. "It was convincing enough, Mrs Blythe. I'd very much like to know why. I'm a stranger to you- and you hardly know the two of us. What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"Mr Douglas, I know that it's hard to believe, however, I was only trying to help Janet. Clearly, it didn't- I mistook the situation completely."

"But why- why would that help? Did- did she say something to you about me?" he asked faintly.

Anne swallowed, feeling sick at the thought of her conversation with Janet. "Mr Douglas, I don't wish to break Janet's confidence."

He turned pale and swallowed, working to control his emotions. "I wouldn't want you to do so."

Anne's heart fell as the uncomfortable silence grew, and she closed her eyes, praying that she wouldn't complicate the matter any further. Eventually, though, she spoke.

"Mr Douglas? Why haven't you married Janet when you care for her so?" she asked softly.

"That is no one's business but my own and Janet's."

With a sinking feeling, Anne realised that Janet could exist in this state for the rest of her life if something didn't change. Her voice was gentle. "Mr Douglas, if you don't ever plan to marry Janet, then it would be kinder to tell her so. You- you must know that she loves you. She deserves to know it if nothing is ever going to happen."

This seemed to be the breaking point for the man who had endured so much, and he leapt to his feet, his eyes flaming. "You don't understand- I would give anything, _anything_ , Mrs Blythe- I would give up everything I possess to be free to act now. But I made a promise- I was sworn to a promise that I cannot break," he choked. "I can't tell her when. I can't tell her _why_. You don't understand what it has meant to me to watch her live her life alone- to watch the two of us grow older when it should have been me by her side all of these years." A dumbfounded Anne watched him pace to and fro on the porch, as the words flooded from him.

"Mr Douglas," Anne said desperately, "You don't owe anyone an explanation- certainly not me- no one except Janet herself. You need to tell her this."

John was breathing heavily, and Anne saw the agony on his kind face as he leant against the rails of the veranda. "And what if an explanation is the one thing I cannot give her?"

Anne's lips thinned, yet her voice was unknowingly gentle. "Mr Douglas, who is it that binds you to something that is causing both of you such pain? Are they still living?"

To her surprise, John began to laugh, a laughter that was immensely painful to Anne's ears. "Come now, Mrs Blythe, who would bother caring who- or _when_ \- an old bachelor married?"

Anne set her cup down with shaking hands, her face stricken. "Your mother."

He fell into his seat, his eyes dull. "At first- I actually believed that she didn't know what she was making me promise," he mumbled. "Twenty years ago, we thought she was dying. She made me swear that I wouldn't bring another woman home until she was dead. I thought it was out of fear- I thought she would relent when she recovered, that she would care more about my happiness than a promise that I was wrong to make. But she never did. She is _merciless_. My father indulged her all her life, and it was left for me to make her happy when he died. And I wanted to do it- I loved my mother- but I soon realised that she couldn't really love me. Not if she can punish me the way she is. She'll never release me, Mrs Blythe. I've tried for twenty years. I went to her on my knees the other night- I begged her- and she told me that it was- _cruel_ \- to lead Janet on- that I might as well let her go her own way. She baits me in front of her," he said, his voice shaking with fury. "She does it, not caring that it hurts me, that it hurts _her_ , and to Janet, who has the kindest heart I've ever known- someone who has waited for me for most of your lifetime. She made me swear that I wouldn't tell Janet- that I wouldn't tell anyone. And I know that I would have happiness in my grasp if I were only willing to break my word- but if I do, what will I have left?" he choked, his words tumbling over themselves. "What kind of man will I be if I attained a wife by breaking my word? I'm trapped, Mrs Blythe. You can't know what it's like to be able to do nothing. I can't leave the farm, and Mother would make Janet's life a living hell if she were to come to us against her wishes. I've had to see us grow older- I've had to watch our neighbours go on to have children, and build families and move away, and she is alone- she is _alone_ because she waited for a man who isn't free."

He dropped his head into his hands, and Anne watched him, her eyes dimmed with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Mr Douglas, you _need_ to tell Janet this. She deserves to know. And she loves you- I'm sure that she will understand if you will only tell her why."

He lifted his head, his face set in grief. "I swore an oath, Mrs Blythe. I let that woman use our family Bible to bind me to this. I- I shouldn't tell Janet anything."

Anne stared at him unflinchingly, then. "And yet you told me."

"I- I was wrong to do so."

Anne paused, her eyes troubled as she tried to express the ideas only forming now. "Mr Douglas, I- think there is more forgiveness available to us than we imagine," she said slowly. "We all have times where we fail our convictions. It hurts- but we forget that we are frail. If it was wrong to promise something so devastating to you both, it is _right_ to tell Janet. You should never have been made to promise otherwise. I- I think there is a higher law at work here- if you must keep your word that you will wait, then tell her why."

John was silent for a full minute, his eyes on the distant garden. He then gave a dry laugh. "I suppose I have already broken my word once. I should at least make it count for something. But a man doesn't like to let himself- to let God down."

Anne gave him a small smile. "' _He knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust_ '," she quoted softly. At the older man's startled look, Anne chuckled tiredly, pushing a red curl back from her forehead. "Mrs Lynde- a neighbour of mine- used to tell me that when I was younger- lest I became too full of myself, I believe. I only ever heard the judgment in that, then. It was only when I was older that I understood the grace in it- He knows us for what we are- and shows us compassion anyway."

There was quiet then on the veranda for some time, until a light step was heard on the pathway, as Janet approached the house. Anne watched as John Douglas stood up to meet her, his hat forgotten on the chair. He took her hand in his, his voice low.

"Janet, will you come for a walk with me? Please?"

Anne held her breath as Janet blinked up at him in shock. "John, whatever is the matter?"

Anne was forgotten as his eyes glittered in the moonlight. "Just- just come with me."

Somewhat in a stupor, Anne watched the pair disappear into the darkness of the orchard, before pulling herself together and realising that she would be better occupied doing the dishes, than standing on the veranda staring after them dumbly.

* * *

 _July 9th_

 _It was terrible of me to do it, Gil, however, I couldn't seem to stop myself- proving that my impulsiveness is not dead yet. I remain unrepentant, though- Janet's love for him, and his own convictions could have held them in this torturous limbo forever. And if I have learned anything over the past six months, it is that secrets are far more damaging than facing the truth. There, don't I sound wise and venerable? Especially since both Janet and John keep reminding me that you and I were infants when they first fell in love. Oh, perhaps their happiness may only exist in stolen moments right now, but it is more than they were living with- they know that they love each other, and perhaps, for now, that is enough. John Douglas and Janet belong together- they should have a house full of strapping sons and loving daughters: kindness and togetherness, and a life not controlled by the machinations of a selfish, older woman. I feel as helpless as I did before- but then what would you or I have done in that situation? I fear that I would have gone stomping off down the road much sooner, that is certain._

 _Janet was teary and yet positively glowing when she came inside- although she reprimanded me at once for speaking for her. Although I'm not sure I can call it a reprimand, not when it was accompanied by extra cream in my tea. I apologised profusely, however, she only sighed and stuffed me full of her butter tart, her eyes as dreamy as any schoolgirl. She is at peace, at last. We discussed it over another cup of tea- Janet insisted on me having one with her, much to my dismay- three big cupfuls at nighttime is too much for comfort! Nevertheless, I was relieved to see Mr Douglas walk back down the path that night with a new spring in his step, despite the burden he still carries. He thanked me, you know- something I don't quite think I deserved. Janet told me candidly that nothing could change between them yet- but she knows the truth. That was all that mattered, and now they can continue on together. I can't help feeling cross about the situation, myself, for what has been solved? Why should Mrs Douglas continue to get away with her manipulation? And yet she- they, are happier than they have ever been. I have to believe that something will change one day; although I sincerely hope in the meantime that I won't be asked over for tea at the Douglas farm anytime soon. If I am, I fear that my tempest in the Avonlea school teapot will look like child's play next to the red-headed volcano that will erupt if she torments either Janet or her son in front of me._

 _July 15_

 _Well, for starters, Anne-est-of-Annes, I wouldn't have made the promise. You can't blackmail a Blythe, we're way too stubborn for that. I hate manipulation, I hate pretence- you are the very furthermost thing from that, which is part of the reason I was so attracted to you. Plus, you know my mother would have proposed to you for me, if she thought it would get us to marry earlier- she would have adored to have us both under one roof (not something I dream about, I assure you) -although I wouldn't complain about anything after hearing about Janet and John Douglas. You wouldn't have waited twenty years to confront me about it, either, sweetheart. You would have gone storming down that road, I would have stormed right after you, and probably grabbed you and kissed you senseless- ie, confusion over. That sounds far more like us. I honour their faithfulness and the love they have for each other, however, it should never have had to be tested that way. We can only hope something will change while there is still time for them to be together._

* * *

As the weeks of July passed, Anne began to turn her attention toward hearth and home, knowing that in only five weeks they would be back in Kingsport together. Gilbert celebrated the half-way mark by writing that he had found a pretty tea set in pink china, from a warehouse filled to the brim with wares from the orient. His landlady had suggested trying there, and he had spent a happy afternoon browsing through the waterside building, watching the ships come and go through dingy windows. He had attempted to sketch a design of the teapot and cups in his letter to Anne, who laughed and commented fondly to Janet that if his drawing was accurate, it would never hold water. He had sent a pretty locket with his letter, a silver oval etched with a sinuous dragon that delighted Anne. He hadn't been extravagant at all, he protested, their finances were well in hand for the upcoming year; however, evidently, she needed something to prove to the townsfolk that he was still alive and well- this was after a certain Samuel Toliver had proposed to Gilbert's supposed widow one evening. When he was informed that Anne's very-much- _alive_ husband was a young, athletic, college fellow who would join her in a little over a month, he proceeded to backtrack quickly, scurrying down the darkening lane and leaving Anne and Janet in fits of laugher on the comfortable sofa inside.

Anne had noticed a certain lightness to Janet's spirits, now. John Douglas still came and took her driving, walking her home from prayer meeting as he had done for twenty years, and outwardly all was the same. At Wayside though, the intimacy between them had grown, and happiness was evident in both of their eyes. Anne managed to spend a Sunday dinner at the Douglas home without incident, affecting to remain as nonchalant as the couple in question were- and several times she caught the older woman looking at Janet and her son with suspicion in her eyes. Janet wore her pretty pansy dress that day, much to Anne's satisfaction. Her greater satisfaction was in the hours the couple spent together away from the older woman, where Anne shamelessly abandoned her post as a chaperone. In those times, she took Gilbert's letters and her notepad to the creek, the green swampland a place of beauty in the summer sunshine.

The letters between the Anne and Gilbert had flown thick and fast, kept and read over a hundred times that summer. Certainly, the Valley Road postmaster was kept busy with Anne's replies, giving an indulgent look as the red-headed schoolmarm dropped off another missive. He never told tales outside the office, however, his broad-faced wife gushed to all who would listen that young Mrs Blythe wrote to her husband three times a week; she was _desperately_ in love with him, she averred- it was all terribly romantic. There was other correspondence of course- Anne's weekly letter to Green Gables, letters to the girls and various college business- including a thick envelope, much battered through two crossings. Janet was quite overwhelmed with the correspondence that came for her boarder and soon grew to know Gilbert's upright, black script even before she had turned the envelope over to read his name.

To Anne's delight, long bubbly letters from Diana began to arrive as the summer waned, bright and cheerful even though the honeymoon period had ended completely, she had stated. In her letters, she spoke of her adventures in housekeeping, including the strangeness of having to wash a man's underthings, her mother-in-law's edicts on what a Wright household should look like, and of her shock at just how much pie Fred could actually eat. Her mother had begun grilling her weekly at Sunday dinner on whether or not she thought she had fallen pregnant yet- and Mrs Wright Senior kept glancing at Diana's torso, no doubt trying to check the same thing. It was most infuriating, Diana wrote- especially since they had been so kind as to inform her how revoltingly she would feel when she entered that blessed state. Anne could only laugh- Diana would make a wonderful mother, she knew, although she knew that her friend wanted a little time before the stork came visiting. Time would tell, she supposed.

One letter had been particularly startling- in view of the conversation before Diana's wedding, she had thought that Anne would appreciate hearing her more positive perspective on the marriage bed- slyly suggesting that Anne should destroy the letter before she went home to Gilbert. Anne had made the mistake of reading it while Janet and John were talking quietly in the corner of the parlour, and both had looked up in consternation as she choked over her cup of tea, her cheeks a brilliant scarlet, and almost incoherent in her assurances that nothing was the matter. In a short time, she had fled to her room to recover. Diana's surprisingly colourful descriptions were filled with details about Fred Wright that she sincerely wished she had never known, while Anne attempted to focus on Di's bright reassurance that it was quite pleasant, and nothing to fear. The problem, Anne thought dryly, was what to do if you happened to possess an especially _visual_ sort of imagination- something that kept her wide awake for some nights afterwards. In her mind was always the picture of Gilbert's twisted smile, the brown curls she hoped their distant children would inherit, and bashful memories of the way he pressed her close to him. Try as she might, her cheeks would flush and her pulse would beat rapidly, and she would wonder if Gilbert ever grew as distracted as she was about him. As she snuggled down in her bed that night, she would remember the glazed expression he sometimes wore when she looked at her- and she couldn't help smiling. Oh, she rather thought that he might.

* * *

In early August Anne returned from a rare weekend at Green Gables to a series of thunderstorms that hovered over the valley. She clutched her umbrella as she walked to and from school in the driving rain, and Janet met her at the door each afternoon with a warm drink and a clean, dry dress laid out on her bed. It was always the way in summer, Janet told her placidly- the back lawn was at present under several inches of water, and the washing was hung out on lines under the veranda.

When Anne was warm and dry on this day, she was handed her stack of mail, beaming as a particularly fat one of Gilbert's topped the pile.

To Anne's surprise, Janet looked at her wistfully, sitting down on the sofa beside her.

"I'm going to miss having you here, Anne," she said slowly. "It's been nice to have someone I can talk to."

Anne blinked in some shock. "Isn't Esther coming back as soon as I go, Janet?"

"Oh, yes," Janet said dully, not sounding at all like her usual self. "Esther is a dear girl, of course- but she has her own friends- and I fear that things with John will go back to the way they were before you came."

"Janet, you know that isn't so," Anne said firmly. "He seems to be around here almost every night, right now. I assume the weather has kept him away for the past two days."

Janet smiled wryly. "I most lived for the few times I saw him, before. I've become spoiled. And I think John feels better about coming around here with a married woman here- he's really very proper, you know."

Anne chuckled. "I think he will find a way to keep seeing you, Janet. And maybe- maybe someday-"

Janet shook her head, a determined smile on her face. "No, no maybes, Anne- and no somedays. I can't live for that. I just need to be grateful that I know how he feels, now." She stood up, then, brushing her tidy apron down. "And now I'd better be getting on with supper- that fish is not going to fry itself."

Anne smiled as Janet exited the room, putting her feet up on the sofa as the fire crackled soothingly. She slit the envelope of Gilbert's letter carefully, as she had learned to do. This time several red leaves fell out, making her chuckle- last time it had been some sand from the bay at Halifax. _That_ was the last time she had opened his letters on her bed. She could almost see the cheeky grin on his face as he sealed it- and across the dried leaf he had printed- _See? Autumn is coming_. How he had gotten his pen to cooperate, she couldn't tell. She set the leaves aside, turning now to unfold the pages.

 _It's been blowing a gale, here,_ he had written. _The wind is quite cool for late summer- although I am assured that that is normal. Let's not move here, sweetness- Kingsport is comparatively sheltered, weather-wise. I had a letter from Mrs Whitley the other day, the house is fine- and she's having the chimney swept this week. She's looking forward to us being back, I think- and asked me to give my greetings to you. There was a stern warning in there to make sure you are resting properly- now, does she know something I don't, or is it just something a mother needs to do? And you have many people who love to mother you, sweetheart. I'm grateful, since I can't be there for you yet._

 _In answer to the question you will no doubt fire back, I'm fine too. Hale and hearty and gearing up for our final year. I study at night, but I've taken to tossing the books aside for a few hours each weekend- and I go on walks around the city, I poke my nose into the little shops and districts that I've never seen before. I've been to an Armenian street market, Halifax's little Italy, and to a fair in Chinatown. It's exciting and invigorating, and I find that I study much better after a break. Yes, yes, I know, Anne has told me that before. Anne is very smart. Now, Anne should stop talking, and let Gilbert get a word in edgewise._

 _I had an adventure, last weekend- I was walking through the newspaper office with a box of files on Saturday morning, and from out of nowhere I was hit by twin tornadoes- the files went every which way (as did my limbs) and when I looked down, it was into the brightest sets of blue eyes I've ever seen- a boy and a girl, blazing red-heads, the both of them. I must have looked particularly bemused since the boy asked me bluntly if I had a concussion. I suppose he might have wondered- it was only you that I was thinking about then, and it took several seconds for me to answer him coherently. His sister was a tiny thing, hiding behind her big brother- and in talking with them I discovered that they were the eldest children of one of the staff. Stanley McClain came along to claim them soon enough, one of the journalists. He roused on the children for disturbing me, and of course, I told him that they weren't, and somehow I ended up with an invitation for Sunday dinner. The children farewelled me in a completely docile manner, thus leaving me unprepared for the sound that met me on Sunday._

 _Now, I know I'm an only child, but I didn't think it was possible for a household to be as noisy as that was. You remember the old AVIS gatherings at the Pye household? Like that, only good-natured. The root of it seems to be in Stan himself, who is partially deaf- he was too close to gunfire out west on assignment. No one else seems to mind it, the volume of conversation is just loud to compensate. They have five children including Billy who is just a baby- although he too seems to be able to keep up with his siblings as far as noise is concerned. Meggie is the second youngest at five, and she is a sweetheart- red headed girls were always able to wrap me around their little fingers, it seems. Heaven help me with our daughters. The shyest of the bunch, she sidled up to me with a picture book, asking me to read it to her while everyone else was busy. I assumed that she was simply quiet until her older brother tormented her about something or other- and then she erupted like the volcano you threatened to emulate in one of your letters. I almost died from laughing, she was every bit as ferocious as you can be- she had to be caught by her father (in one arm, he's a big, strapping fellow) and told sternly that it wasn't polite to shout in front of strangers. I'm going back there this week. Honestly, it's the most fun I've had since I've been here; although my ears were ringing when I left the house, as all seven of the family stood out on the doorstep hollering goodbye to me all the way up the street._

 _I've been dwelling on it ever since I left there- and it's what I want with you, Anne-girl. We've always talked about having a family one day, but it's never seemed so real to me. I can leave behind all my ambitions, if need be, and be thoroughly happy to work and grow and have a family who loves each other. Those fiery red-headed children made me long for the day when you and I become more than just you and I- where we become mother and father to our own little people. I had Meggie and Billy on my knee at one point, and couldn't help but choke up, especially being so far from you right now. You would have adored it there- and you would have enjoyed swapping stories with Stan's wife at the top of your lungs. You can't help doing it to be heard in that house._

 _I know that we have a unique situation and that we have so much that needs settling before we begin to think about such things- but as you reminded me, we're learning to share the things closer to our hearts. You've shared yours with me, and I want to share mine with you- and distant future or not, I came away from that house with a picture of us surrounded by our own precious family. Only don't take to shouting if I suddenly grow deaf, it's most disconcerting for the guests._

 _Not long to go now, love._

 _All of mine to you,_

 _Gil._

* * *

 **Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, and for taking the time to tell me what you think- and for encouraging me to keep going too! Although don't worry, I've never not finished a story yet. I don't think I could handle leaving it myself- despite the occasional freak-out. Now, several people have asked me about my posting schedule- I really don't have one. I think a week is fairly reasonable for me, however, as you know I've had to have much bigger gaps lately. Like everyone else on here, I have a fairly insistent real life, one that includes 3 autistic children and a beagle with Special Needs. Naturally enough I write around the demands of the family- and as far as recreational time goes, writing has been it for me for years, now. I love hearing from you all, and I love those little nudges I get when it's been too long, however, sometimes it's just going to be like that. I took a little liberty with John and Janet here, I was pondering about how differently the couple could have viewed Anne as a married woman- and maybe had conversations they would not have had with a young, single girl. As with everything, this is just my perspective- and I'm having an absolute ball writing it. Love to you all,**

 **Cate.**


	28. Chapter 28, Catching Moonlight

**Surprise! I wasn't willing to promise that it would be a shorter wait this time, however, the odds were pretty good- since I wrote this chapter months ago. For everyone who has followed this story over the past seven months, thank you so much- I've appreciated hearing from you all, and I can't tell you how many times you have made my day by taking the time to review. I don't suppose it is possible to write something and not have it contain your heart- thank you for dealing with mine so graciously.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 28**

 _August 20th_

 _(Cont)_

 _John and Janet are to be married quietly next month, and they have promised to send us a copy of their wedding announcement. In the wake of all that has happened over the past few weeks, I am so relieved that this part of their story has ended so well- and so peacefully._

 _The townsfolk are none the wiser about what really happened with John's mother. It's a bittersweet happiness, but happiness it is- it would be wrong if she could spoil that from the grave. The real tragedy is that Mrs Douglas could have embraced Janet so many years ago, and had all those years with her son and his family- she could have been a part of it. Instead, what did she have? The knowledge that she kept her home all to herself, and her son in misery._

 _I must admit that while it has been satisfying to be at work, I am more than happy to be returning to Kingsport as a student, and to your side again. Marilla writes that she is looking forward to having me at home for a few days before I go back- although I admit with some guilt that I checked a Charlottetown paper to see what route I would need to take to get to Halifax, should I decide to leave early. I am impatient, you see- and yet our families have been without us for most of the summer. So I shall dutifully go home to be with them for the last time until we are home for Christmas. Your mother has claimed me for the last two days, and they will see me to the train on Saturday morning._

 _You would have laughed to have seen your mother while she was here at Valley Road- she ended up staying with Janet and I, insisting that the sofa was just fine for two nights. You know how she is with us, however, apparently it extends to everyone- Janet found herself thoroughly mothered while she was here. She commented to me crossly that I was unusually fortunate in my mother-in-law: and I am. She liked her very much, and it was wonderful to see her fuss over the young lovers and shove them out the door with a bulging picnic basket. John looked especially bemused- however, he doffed his hat like a schoolboy, and submitted to her fussing just fine- even if he didn't know who she was._

 _Your mother and I walked around most of the area, I believe, and I took her to my swamp- it may sound unappealing, however, it is the loveliest place. We don't really have mountains close to home, either, and there is a certain weightiness that it adds to the landscape._

 _It was wonderful, Gil. She talked to me about what you were like as a child, and the years she spent running the farm while you were in Alberta. I think I had assumed that your uncle had been arranging things- but I was wrong. It was Amelia Blythe._

 _In return, I told her- everything. I didn't expect to. I had resolved that I needed to tell you where I had come from, Gil, but I didn't think it necessary to speak of it to anyone else- although perhaps necessary is the wrong word, here. Somehow, opening up to you made it possible for me to talk about it with someone else. We might have cried a little, together, but there was something cleansing in it, too. It is my past, after all. It's a part of me. And I began to remember other things, too- things that gave me hope back then- somehow, that was never killed in me. And I wonder if there is something a little miraculous about that._

 _A few weeks ago, I started writing again. It's a little different to what I have written before, and I don't know that I will do anything with it, however, I thought I would try. A long time ago, I told you that my ambition was to make life more beautiful- perhaps in my innocence, I believed that needed to be to the exclusion of everything that was not. I'm coming to see that life is both ugly and beautiful- and while I would infinitely prefer to keep my pen to the latter, perhaps the former gives it meaning._

 _I miss you._

 _I know that we haven't really talked about what happened between us before we left Kingsport- but we will, soon. You will light the fire, and I will make us tea, and we can talk- oh, how I miss being able to talk with you. Our hearth will be home once more, and we will be together. And there is nothing I want more than that._

 _I'll be at the station at approximately nine next Friday night, slightly dishevelled and most likely trailed by the ever non-effervescent Mr Sloane- and I think I may safely promise you that I have no compunction about embarrassing him horribly to greet you in the way you wish. I'm holding you to your promise that we won't be away like this again: from now on, wherever you go, I go too._

 _Soon, and very soon._

 _Love, Anne._

* * *

It was the last week in August when the Carmody train pulled into the station, and Anne watched as the familiar sights of the countryside met her eyes, and she smiled at the first sight of the ocean in the distance. She had left Valley Road behind her quite cheerfully that morning with the gratitude of the school board, and a nice check that would ease the costs for the last year of college. John and Janet had taken her to the station that morning with their own grateful thanks and a large basket of food- far more than a two-hour train ride to Avonlea warranted, however, Davy would no doubt have it disposed of in no time.

A large party made to disembark just as the train pulled to a stop, laughing and chattering in the aisles, and Anne kept her seat patiently waiting for them to pass. She could look out over the wilderness beside the station from her seat, and gave a little sigh, a little smile as she remembered the Book of Revelation moment beside the train. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she thought of Gilbert, still working hard in the newspaper office. He was frantic to come home, he had said, counting down the hours until they were together again- and so was she. She had so much to tell him- so much that she wanted to talk about with him. She rose from her seat when the porter came on board to help her with her bags, and she kept her eyes down as she disembarked from the train, needing the time to steady herself before meeting the family.

When Anne was once more settled on the Carmody platform, she looked around curiously through the few people waiting- and then as a family moved out of the way, she saw Gilbert, his impossible presence leaning against one of the posts.

Anne was still for a second, so in shock was she- but his grin was enormous as she dropped her bags with an undignified shriek, and his long-legged stride quickly consumed the distance. He caught her in his arms then, lifting her clear off the ground and kissing her with a face that had not been shaved for several days, making her laugh at the scratch of his jaw as he peppered kisses across her face. His arms held her to him tightly, and as they stilled she heard him let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Never again," he mumbled against her skin, making Anne laugh again as she clung to him.

"But then you're so happy to see me when I return," she teased, drinking in the familiar scent of him. She leant in close to kiss him again, her eyes tracing over his features hungrily. "Why didn't you tell me you would be here?" she asked softly, not seeing the curious looks given by others on the platform.

Gilbert shrugged, grinning. "I finished up early. I knew you would be here for a week before we went home- and I couldn't pass up the chance to have some time together." He turned then, looking around to find her bags several yards from them. "Anne-girl, however did you manage to toss them so far?"

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck in a most satisfying way. "It was the surprise of the thing, Gil. I couldn't ask for better." She kissed him again, suddenly stiffened in his hold. "Gil, I'm supposed to be going to Green Gables now- you aren't staying at the farm, are you?"

He snorted, well pleased at her hesitation. "I'm not leaving your side again, thank you very much. I wrote Marilla a fortnight ago to ask if I might stay with you- she told me they'd find a place for me somewhere."

Anne grimaced. "Hopefully that doesn't mean the hired man's room downstairs."

"It's still closer to you than I've been for almost three months." He pressed a hard kiss to her smiling mouth, before moving back to study her carefully. "You look different, somehow, Anne-girl."

Anne flushed, wondering if he could see the change in her so quickly. "I just can't believe that we are here together- although I wonder if you are as tired as I am of living out of your suitcase. I've become spoiled living in the Mushroom."

Gilbert let out a pleased bark of laughter. "I wasn't aware that our humble home could spoil anyone- although I have a surprise for you about that when we get home." He bent down to pick up the bags she had dropped and put his arm around her as they walked toward the buggy. "I only got here yesterday," he said easily, pausing to nod at the grinning station master. "When I was offered the chance to finish up early I had to take it- and your letters made me quite unable to wait for you in Kingsport."

"Oh?"

He chuckled, as they walked down the steps, before heaving the bags into the waiting cart. "Yes, all that talk about what we would do if we were at home together- and you _would_ talk about roaming the woods unchaperoned. All I could think about was the last time we did that- and I couldn't pass that chance up now, could I?"

Anne swallowed, knowing exactly what night he was referring to, and she blushed as he helped her into the buggy, his hands firm and warm on her waist. It brought to mind a series of vivid dreams that had plagued her at night during the worst of the summer heat, and it was with an effort that she shoved the images away for the time being. "Well, we will just have to see about doing that," she said softly, tucking her hand into his elbow as soon as he was beside her. He turned to smile at her, and she marvelled again at the way Gilbert's presence felt- how had she not seen what he had always made her feel? She was glad that she had worn the green dress that he liked- and then felt foolish for caring about her clothing when Gilbert was finally with her.

He had a curious smile on his face as he clicked the reins, and as they began to move Anne settled in contentedly at his side.

"Marilla wrote back to me that she was very glad we would have a small holiday before term began- I thought there was a hint of reprimand in that, to be honest-"

"Most likely," Anne added cheerfully.

"And my mother is wild with excitement at having us both to stay for a few days together as well. And this time, with no Mary Maria."

She chuckled, then. "I was supposed to be staying there in your stead, in any case. I know how she misses her boy."

Gilbert smiled at her, daring to lean in to kiss her lips while the horse jogged along steadily. "And you told me that you missed me too."

"Like you would not believe." She clasped his arm, her eyes shining as she lifted her nose to the smell of the ocean. They drove through the woods that separated Carmody from their hometown, enjoying the simple bliss of being together again. "Oh, Gil, tell me that we can take the time to wander our places," she said softly. "I love our families, and we need to give them our time, but we've waited so long for this."

He grinned, taking her hand to kiss it. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. If I thought I'd get away with it, I'd run away with you right now."

Anne lifted one auburn eyebrow, her eyes twinkling. "Would you really cross Marilla or your mother?"

"To get you all to myself? In a heartbeat." He passed the reins into one hand then, his other slipping around her waist audaciously. "But I'd never cross _you_."

* * *

Marilla stood at the kitchen door watching Gilbert assist Anne down from the buggy feeling distinctly emotional. The Anne who ran up the veranda steps was not the one who had left them two months ago, and as she pulled her into a warm embrace, she sighed in relief. She turned to welcome Gilbert with a smile, noting with some amusement the big Blythe grin on his face, as well as the overnight bag he had in his hands.

"Well. I think the world can see the two of you are in better shape now," she commented, amused to see the pair of them look at each other blankly. "What? Did you think we couldn't tell when something was wrong?"

Anne followed Marilla in through the doors, her eyes huge. "W-we?"

Marilla somehow kept the smile from her face, moving to pull the kettle from the stove. She nodded at Gilbert. "Oh, your parents and I. We do talk, you know- especially when we've all been worried about you. Last year was a trying one for all concerned- but it's done now. Now, your mother is expecting you both on Wednesday, isn't she?"

Gilbert grinned. "Yes. I'll have to drop the buggy back home to dad soon, though."

Marilla moved something fragrant from the stove, her look calm. "Well, you've got some time this morning, Rachel and the twins won't be home for a few hours. She took them into town to get fabrics and new shoes for the pair of them- they've both grown overnight, it seems. I'd been a mite head-achy yesterday, and Rachel said she'd take them for me." She lifted her hand at Anne's look of worry, a stern look on her face. "Oh, don't look so concerned, child. I suppose you could say that I earned that one- I was doing some embroidery that I should have left well alone."

"Marilla, I could have done that for you," Anne said quietly, coming to wrap her arms around Marilla's waist. "I'm sure it could have waited until now."

Gilbert had stood back watching as Anne and Marilla talked, and he smiled at the brusque kiss Marilla placed on Anne's red head.

"There, now. All's well- and perhaps I've learned my lesson this time. Now, there's no point cluttering up the entryway with your bags- you can take them right up to your room. You might as well take Gilbert with you."

Anne hugged her again, turning to see Gilbert standing somewhat awkwardly with all of the bags in his hands. She walked over to him with rosy cheeks, unaware that Marilla was trying not to smile at the bashfulness still between the young couple. She sighed wryly as they left the room, hoping that Rachel's instincts were right- else it would be an interesting night for everyone.

* * *

Gilbert followed Anne up the stairs, unable to keep the smile from his face to be following Anne to her bedroom. He stopped when Anne turned into the eastern room, and the smile grew, thinking how well it suited her. The pretty apple-blossom paper, green curtains and white furniture all sang of the girl he had known; however what evidently _hadn't_ been there before, was a big, double bed.

"Ah." Gilbert blinked at Anne, who turned to him with an amused look. "Marilla told me that they had something new for my room," she said drolly. "She did not specify _what_ , exactly."

"It wasn't there when you came home last?"

Anne turned to look at the bed, running her hand over the bedspread, guessing that it was some of Rachel's work. "No, not at all."

"Do- you mind?"

Anne turned to meet his hazel eyes, her heart melting at the guarded hope in his manner, as he gestured at the bed.

There was a slight blush on her cheeks as she shook her head, and she smiled as he relaxed.

He slipped his jacket off broad shoulders then, smiling to see that Anne's expressive eyes immediately moved to his arms, her lip tucked neatly between her teeth. He turned away to hide the look of sheer delight on his face at her reaction to him, before moving to the window to look out at the view.

Anne dropped her hat on the big bed with a contented sigh. "I had thought that since I was married, they might wish to give Dora my bedroom soon- they certainly aren't obligated to keep one for me, now."

Gilbert turned back to her at the wistfulness in her voice. "Sweetheart, they'll want to keep one for you to come home to," he reminded her, as he hung the garment on the bedpost. "Otherwise we'd always stay at my parent's house. Marilla would want you to be able to come home."

Anne's grey eyes met his, then, and she moved to stand beside him. "I have now," she said quietly, and Gilbert dropped what he had been holding, and pulled her into a tight hug, blinking fiercely at the way her hands clung to him.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Anne shook her head against him. "No, _I'm_ sorry-"

"Anne-girl, I'm sorry about everything," he interrupted, his voice catching as he pulled back, needing to see her. "I'm sorry that it took eleven years for you to find safety- and that I was the idiot who attacked you when you first came."

"Gil, shhh." He looked down to see a tear fall down her cheek, although she was smiling. "It's over now. It's all done. I'm here."

Gilbert tried to control his emotions, his hands holding her waist. "I don't even know how to begin to talk to you about everything."

Anne bit her lip, her eyes caressing his face. "Then let's not," she whispered. "We can unpack it later- or not at all."

She saw the sudden cloud fall over his expression. "If you think I can go back to how we were- how we used to be-"

Anne placed a finger over his mouth, her look firm. "No. I'm not suggesting that. What I am saying is that it might take us years to work through everything we told each other- just let it happen in its own time."

Gilbert pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes twinkling. "What did I say I'd do if you did that again?"

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she pulled away from him, suddenly shy. "Duly noted. When did you want to take the buggy back to your father?"

He paused to kiss to her nose, quite unable to stop touching her now that they were together again, before stepping away to resume rolling up his shirtsleeves. "We'll go now. We can walk back from there- it's the first of the walks we wanted to do, wasn't it?"

Anne chuckled. "It was the first of our walks anywhere, Gil. It sounds lovely."

When their belongings were safely stowed away, Gilbert held his hand out to Anne, and the two of them walked downstairs together to meet Marilla, now pouring cake batter into waiting pans. Marilla shooed them from the door then, telling them that they may as well be off- perhaps she had seen the looks on the young couple's faces, divining that they wished to be alone. Whatever the reason, she reminded them that the others would be home at noon and that the children were most impatient to have the younger Blythes home again.

* * *

Anne and Gilbert were affectionately welcomed at the farm by Gilbert's parents, and it was almost half an hour before they were able to tear themselves away, reminding Amelia that they would see them at Green Gables for dinner the following day. Amelia exclaimed over the pair of them, declaring that they had never looked better- until eventually, she caught the glances exchanged, and sent them out the door, saying that they no doubt had better things to do than sit inside on their last week of summer.

Gilbert took Anne's hand in his as the door closed behind them, chuckling as he heard his father's amused voice through the door- "For heaven's sake, we'll see them tomorrow, Milly."

Anne smiled as they walked to the front gate where she had first taken his hand, five long years ago. They stood at the entrance to the Haunted Wood, and Gilbert looked at Anne expectantly.

"Are we heading back to Green Gables now?"

Anne looked out on the verdant foliage with a look of concentration. "I don't know," she said, at last. "Hester's garden is too far- as is your apple tree."

Gilbert bent down, his eyebrow quirked. "Anne, I know that we've missed home- but we're here for a week, sweetheart- we don't need to do it all today."

Anne rolled her eyes. "I just want to go somewhere right _now_ \- somewhere specific. I just don't know which one."

To this, he began to laugh, pulling her into his arms. "Anne, that makes no sense whatsoever- oh, I've missed this."

Anne slapped his arm crossly. "Fine. Then _you_ pick a place."

Gilbert, evidently persuaded that his beloved was not behaving quite rationally, sighed and grabbed her shoulders, bending down to look into her eyes. "Pick a place for _what_?"

Anne spoke slowly, trying to be as clear as she could. "You pick a favourite place- somewhere special to us. One that isn't too far away so that we can go there now."

He grinned and tugged on her hand. "That I can do, my dryad." Together they set off into the woods, and Anne's face lit up some minutes later when she recognised their destination.

"Of course! Lover's lane! You're right, I wasn't really thinking, was I?" she said dreamily. "It's perfect."

Together they walked up the old path in the morning light, Anne still marvelling that she was with Gilbert after all this time away, and in their hometown. Only that morning she had been in Valley Road contemplating another week without him- and she had believed him to be in Halifax. Now, the wind purred through maple leaves beginning to don their autumn dress of colour, and Anne found herself studying her husband as they strolled together. She had missed it all- the strong lines of his jaw, his smile and the twinkling hazel eyes that she loved. There was still the hint of the boy she had known in his appearance, and yet the man she had grown to know was the one with whom she had fallen in love- the one who had stood by her side valiantly as they walked an uncertain pathway together. How had she not realised it then?

Gilbert was surprised to feel her tugging on his hand as they walked through the woods, and she led him toward a dappled hollow they had often gone to take refuge from the summer heat- a green hollow by a corner of the creek, dotted about with the blue of asters, and goldenrod waving like bright fairy torches by the bank. Gilbert followed her, noting absently how the trees had grown since he had last been there. She sat down on the smooth grass and waited for him to stretch out beside her.

Gilbert eyed the hectic flush on her cheeks curiously.

"Anne? You seem nervous."

Anne drew in a shaking breath. "I suppose I am- a little. I wanted- that is, I had a plan about how I would do this, and then you were there at the station, and so that won't work because Kingsport is too far away and I won't wait that long-"

"Anne, honey, _breathe_ -"

"I _am_!" she said, exasperated at herself for stumbling over such an important moment. Was she to reach this place only to be unable to speak? She huffed in silence for a moment, and Gilbert's brow lowered.

"Is something troubling you?" he asked, and she shook her head, her eyes mutinous.

"Not exactly- well, not at all, really. I just wanted to tell you something."

Gilbert's eyes twinkled. "Did you do something bad?"

Anne chuckled, her cheeks red. " _No_. Why is that the first conclusion you jumped to?"

"I'm not jumping- not yet," he teased lightly, and then moved until he sat directly in front of her, his long legs crossed in Turk-fashion. His fingers began to trace the curve of her hand, his smile twisting in mischief despite the unease in his heart. "Come on, sweetheart, you've got me here captive. Tell me."

Anne sighed, her eyes on his beloved face for a long moment. "I wish we could go back in time," she said softly.

Gilbert's face showed his shock. In all of the things they had discussed while they were apart, he'd not seen a hint that she regretted their time together. Was this what she was struggling to tell him?

Anne's low voice continued, then. "I- regret- that I didn't see things as clearly as I do now. It occurs to me that I could have saved us a good deal of hurt if I had only understood what I felt. I didn't, though- but you know that. I suppose I didn't know any better, really- and I was afraid of what we had between us."

Gilbert licked suddenly dry lips, more than a little afraid himself about where this was heading. "Well- alright."

Anne moved closer to him, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. "When I saw you get on that train two months ago- it took everything I had to not abandon my teaching position and come with you."

His gaze softened. "It was hard for me to leave you too, sweetheart. It was the longest ten weeks of my life."

She gave an unsteady chuckle then, her eyes caressing his beloved face. "I think mine was longer. You see- I understood something when you left my side- because it hurt me in a way I haven't hurt since Matthew died."

Gilbert clutched her hand in shock. "Anne-"

Her eyes were distant as she tightened her fingers around his. "I could never blame him for leaving us- he didn't want to go. And I know that you didn't want to leave me either."

Gilbert leant forward, his hands cradling her face tenderly. "I didn't, love. It nearly killed me to go. We won't be apart like that ever again, I promise."

Anne closed her eyes at his touch, and then gently took his hands from her face, her heart pounding hard in her chest. "I'm in love with you, Gil," she whispered.

There was silence for a moment, his eyes raking over her fiercely. "I- _what_?"

Anne blinked in shock. "I have been trying to decide how to tell you that for two months now, and _that's_ how you respond?"

She got no further when Gilbert pulled her tightly into his arms, his gaze burning into her own. "No, no, no; you're not going to get mad at me now, I just want to be sure that I heard you correctly-"

A faint smile was on Anne's lips, and she moved her hands to hold his face close to her own. "I am- utterly- irrevocably and most _insanely_ in love with you, Gilbert Blythe."

His hands were tangled into her hair then; a sound, it might have been ecstasy or pain fell from his lips and then he was pulling her onto his lap, his arms around her waist as he kissed her breathlessly.

"When?" he managed against her mouth, and she gave a choked laugh, pulling back to see him as her fingers lightly traced his cheek. She shook her head, smiling.

"Since- always."

Gilbert chuckled, squeezing her waist. "No- I mean, when did it happen?"

Anne snuggled closer to him, her look tender. "It didn't happen. I think I always have." She was silent then, as she tried to gather her wayward thoughts. Gilbert watched the play of emotion in her eyes and smiled at the dreamy look she gave. "I had a white night the night you left here," she said softly. "I couldn't sleep, and I found myself outside under the moonlight, wandering through Marilla's garden in my nightgown." There was amusement in her voice, and Gilbert chuckled.

"Now, _that's_ my girl."

"Indeed." Anne paused to press a kiss to his jaw, and rested her forehead against it for a moment, feeling all the headiness that came from finally telling him of her love. "The roses were so fragrant, and there was a breeze coming up from the woods- and the moon was so bright that it showed every blade of grass. And I _saw_ it." Gilbert gave her a puzzled look, and Anne shook her head with a slight smile. "When you are a child you think that the moon is either present, or it isn't. But when we get older we realise that it's always there, whether we can see it or not, shadowed by the earth, or just beyond the horizon. But then I saw the train take you from me, and I knew," she said softly. "I knew that I loved you. It's always been there, even when it was shadowed behind the things of my past, behind anger, and even behind our friendship. I don't know how or when it began- I don't even care. Sometime, since that first night at your gate, I fell in love with you. I just didn't know that I _had_."

Gilbert rested his head against her, a blissfully content smile on his face as he shifted her more firmly against him. "Well, I know where I was- I remember the moment it happened to me."

She looked up at him, her grey-green eyes yearning. "When, Gil?"

He bent to kiss her firmly, his broad hand resting on her stomach, causing untold numbers of butterflies to take flight. "Probably on some level, since I was fourteen. But it was just a happy day," he said quietly. "I came to take you for a row on the pond. It was sunset- and I was helping you out of the boat, and you stepped close to me like we were about to dance- and suddenly you weren't just my friend- you were the woman I loved."

Anne's eyes were glistening, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "You make me wish I had one of those moments to give you."

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "You don't think that moment at the train station counts? I do. Although if I'd known I'd have thrown myself off the train to get to you, no matter what work was waiting for me," he said dryly.

Anne lifted her hand to cup his chin in trembling hands. "It hurt me so terribly to see you go- and I kept wondering what would happen if you never came back to me. I felt that I didn't deserve you. I'd lived with you for six months, and yet I never truly appreciated you- appreciated what you mean to me. If you hadn't- I couldn't have told you- you wouldn't have _known_ -" her voice was shaking, and Gilbert closed his eyes in utter happiness, raining down soft kisses on her cheeks.

"Anne, I know you better than you think I do," he whispered. "It's why I was so confused. Your words told me one thing, but your eyes and your actions kept telling me another. I was just too afraid to let myself believe it."

Anne sighed, loving the warmth of his body wrapped around hers. "I assumed that you would want to hear it in person."

He smiled. "I'm glad you waited. I think I might have quit my job if you'd written it- I barely coped with the distance as it was. And I think- that you were right."

"Well, as much as a woman loves to hear that-"

"I mean when you said that we needed time apart." He stopped to trace his fingers over her lips and sighed. "We were busy and under pressure from all sides- and so we never had the chance to stop and examine what we were feeling. I might have had a head start- but even I had some things to sort out." He caught her puzzled look and exhaled. "I knew that I loved you, but I was holding back from you too. I was afraid that you'd run from me if you knew how long I'd cared for you."

Anne's face was sober as she met his eyes. "I might have," she said softly.

"And when the wedding happened so suddenly, I just assumed that we would figure it out as we went-"

"To be fair, we _did_ , Gil," Anne said logically.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "- and then I thought I knew everything about you, sweetheart, but there was so much that I didn't know. I was arrogant enough to think that I knew everything that mattered. And then I blundered around for the first six months of our marriage because of it."

Anne's hand came up to twist into his shirt, and she eyed him sternly. "Now, look here, Gilbert- I told you that I didn't tell you to earn your pity. I don't want it. And you and I _both_ blundered things- not to mention me starting all of this by falling on top of you in a tent I had no business to be in."

He began to laugh, stretching back onto the soft grass, and taking her down with him. "You don't know how glad I am that you ignored that."

Anne's smile was wicked, and she rolled over to look down at her husband. "Neither of us thought that at the time."

"Hindsight." Gilbert shrugged with a grin, running his fingers through the little curls at the nape of her neck. "I never could have picked this happening from that, now, could I?"

Anne snuggled into his shoulder then, smiling as his arm wrapped around her. "I wonder what this will change," she murmured dreamily.

She felt Gilbert' shoulder shake slightly with his laughter. "Apart from us getting a whole lot happier? Everything. Nothing. We're still married, still students- we still live in a house smaller than the Green Gables kitchen."

"Oh, you exaggerate," Anne said, with a yawn that made him laugh.

"Am I keeping you awake there?"

Anne smiled. "Perhaps. The closer we came to the end, the worse I slept, it seemed. I plan to sleep very well, tonight, new bed or not."

Gilbert turned to face her then, his look loving. "Anne, you've made me the happiest fellow in the world. But- this doesn't need to change anything for us yet, sweetheart. Everything we decided when we married can stay in place if that's what you want. We've got plenty of time."

Anne looked up at his earnest face, her hand stroking his chin gently. "I _want_ it to change, Gil." There was a sudden blush, and she chuckled as his eyebrows flew up. "No- not everything, of course, we do have a degree to finish, after all. I realised though, while we were away- that I'm finally ready for _us_ , now."

"So am I," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her yearningly. "Alright, love. What do _you_ want?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Just _you_."

Gilbert chuckled as her hands traced his face. "We were wrong, Anne-girl. We kept saying that we would begin properly one day, but we're not where we were nine months ago. I think we've made a rather good beginning, all things considered. Although I was terrified that I'd wrecked it all the night of the ball."

"So was I."

"Although- I think we're better for it now," he added soberly. "We needed to get all that out. The insecurity was poisoning us."

"Including how I made you feel when I wasn't fully there."

Gilbert gave a short sigh. "Yes. Including that."

Her hand was on his face then, and he smiled as Anne cupped his cheek in slender hands. "I'm here now, dearest," she whispered. "I'm with you, with everything I have in me."

There could be no words to this declaration, and Gilbert found himself laughing at the pure joy welling up inside, pulling Anne close to kiss her deeply in the late summer sunshine. There would be time to celebrate with friends and families before they went back home, however, this moment was only about the two of them. Their happiness was in each others keeping, and for the very first time, they both were unafraid.


	29. Chapter 29, All Precious Things

**Hello everyone! Now, as you can no doubt see, the story's not over yet. (kudos to those who picked that up from my author's notes!) The story itself spans from November 1885 to November 1887- although the last 14 months span only the last third (quarter?) of the story. As you can see, pacing will move slightly quicker now. I'm glad so many of you are excited to see where I'm taking this pair- I have a plan for them! I've said in other stories that I'm sticking close to canon and not done it- I can cheerfully tell you now that I have no intention in sticking to it this time around. Thank you for your encouraging words, and the way you read this- I appreciate you all so much.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 29**

Anne and Gilbert were welcomed back to Green Gables by Marilla, Mrs Lynde, Dora and an ecstatic Davy, who of course believed that the pair had been imported for his own amusement. Anne chuckled, watching Gilbert attempt to calm him down, reminding him that they were there for a week, and was then distracted by Mrs Lynde fussing over their well-being. Marilla had once observed that Rachel had raised ten children- and in the absence of the ten young Lyndes, she continued to mother anyone who came across her path, assuming it was her right to do so.

Anne assured her that they were doing very well indeed, suggesting that perhaps Gilbert was feeling rather faint from his long journey- all of which to save him from Davy's attempt to pick a time to go fishing while still standing on the doorstep. At this broad hint, Marilla ushered them all inside to sit down for tea, and Davy was eventually silenced with a larger than normal slice of plum cake. Gilbert sat beside Anne, his chair tucked close to her own, every now and then turning to meet her sparkling gaze as the conversation flowed around them. He listened to stories of her time away, and almost shook his head in the wonder of being with her again. They were together, and she loved him- and always had. How had he ever been so lucky as to win her heart?

"Gil?"

"Mmm?"

"Marilla was asking how your accommodations were in Halifax," Anne said quietly, her eyes twinkling.

He turned to the answer the older woman sheepishly and tried to keep abreast of the conversation- at least until Anne turned to him, suggesting that that afternoon they might visit some of their old haunts. At this point, he gave up entirely, unable to remove the dreamy smile on his face. In the corner of his vision he saw Rachel and Marilla exchanging an amused look at their expense, however, he couldn't find it in himself to care- and when Anne rose to take his hand, only the twins were oblivious to the fact that the two of them wished to be alone.

The way to their apple tree was as lovely as it had been three years earlier, however, the couple who now walked it could not have been more different. Around every bend of the path was a new place to draw aside, her hand in his brown curls, and his breath hot against her lips and her skin, unable to stop touching her now that he had the freedom to do so. The throaty chuckle she gave as he pulled her closer, and the echoing shiver of delight he felt in her slim body- it all intoxicated him, and he could only wonder how they would be able to concentrate when they were once more at work in the city.

Some hours later, the two of them lay under the shade of the apple tree, tracing pictures in the clouds, and saying for the fourth time that they really should be heading back soon. Their many letters, the conversations begun and not finished were left to one side, perhaps instinctively- there would be time for that later. For now, they could only be a deep, abiding joy.

* * *

In the cosy parlour that night, Anne sat with her hand in Gilbert's as Marilla and Mrs Lynde caught the couple up on all of the Avonlea news. Moody and Charlie were set to return to Kingsport on the same day Anne and Gilbert were and rumour had it that Charlie had been writing to a young lady over the holidays. Mrs Lynde announced that it must be fact- as when she confronted Mrs Sloane about it, she had neither confirmed nor denied a thing. When pressed, Gilbert admitted that he knew the girl in question, however, he would only say that she was a pleasant young woman who had just completed her sophomore year and that no doubt Charlie would confirm it when there was something to confirm. Privately, Anne resolved to ask Charlie to bring her to the Mushroom for tea when they returned to Kingsport- after he had championed them so doggedly after their own impulsive wedding, they had resolved that they would do no less for him in his time of need.

It was late when the family went upstairs to bed, and another question was answered when Davy announced that he had been moved into Matthew's old bedroom and that Dora had, in turn, moved into his. Marilla was quick to reassure the young couple that it had needed doing anyhow, with young Dora needing her space, however she had wanted to keep Anne's bedroom for the young couple to have a place to come home to in their holidays. Mrs Lynde had suggested the change, apparently- and it might be suspected that she hadn't wanted to see Anne staying at the Blythes more often than she did at Green Gables. Davy was particularly well pleased with the change- although it was supposed that his proximity to the kitchen was the main reason for his joy.

Anne and Gilbert lingered for a little while afterwards, talking quietly as the house began to settle. There was a new consciousness between the two of them then, and when the clock struck ten Anne rose from her seat to hold out her hand to Gilbert, a pretty colour on her cheeks. Gilbert smiled as he stood up, and pulled her close to kiss her sweetly.

" _Never again_ ," he murmured, and his wife smiled.

"Never again."

* * *

A little later, Gilbert came into Anne's bedroom in his pyjamas, a quizzical smile on his face as he watched her brushing her long hair out before the mirror, and saw that she was in her frilly white nightgown already. He gave a contented sigh as he watched her for a moment, before placing his clothes down on the chair beside the bed.

" _So_ ," he said lightly. "It's our first night back together- we know that we love each other- and I'm sleeping with you in the bedroom I used to picture you in when we were younger. Surrounded by your family. _Interesting_."

"You pictured me in here then?" Anne asked, her eyes enormous.

He grinned, climbing onto the big bed. "I was a teenage boy, Anne- of course, I did. Not that I can claim to be much better as an adult," he said thoughtfully. "It's lucky that your bedroom is now mine. Did you never imagine me in my room?"

Anne had been ready to climb into bed herself, and Gilbert shot up in bed when she stumbled at his words, landing on the mattress with a squeak. She began to laugh, her cheeks flushed in the light of the lamp as she tried to right herself.

"Steady on, Anne-girl, I can't have you swooning onto the floor-"

She pushed herself up with a little scowl, pausing to swat his shoulder as she slipped between the sheets, suddenly feeling shy. "I really did marry the boy who pulled my hair, didn't I?"

"Can I take that as a yes?"

"Perhaps, on occasion," was all she would reply, before turning to look at the man beside her, her grey eyes gentle in the lamplight. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming home- for surprising me like this. It was wonderful."

Gilbert smiled, clasping her hand in his own. "How did you plan to tell me in Kingsport? You said you had one."

She laughed softly, squeezing his fingers. "I did. As soon as we got home to our dark little house- we would go inside, and lock the door behind us- and I would have told you right away." He leant in to kiss her nose and sighed in contentment. "Of course, I _did_ have a plan B," Anne added meditatively. "In that one, I was simply going to climb into your bed and wait to see what happened."

To this, Gilbert could only laugh incredulously. "Without explaining anything?"

She shrugged, her look angelic. "You're easily the most intelligent man that I've ever known. I'm sure you would have figured it out sooner or later."

Gilbert grinned at her. "You know, you might have gotten more than you bargained for."

Anne touched his cheek, shaking her red head. "I wanted you. If I had that, what more could I have asked for? And at least this way, we have our week, before we go home together."

Gilbert drew in a hesitant breath. "Well, actually, I was at home two days ago." He didn't move as Anne struggled upright, turning to look at him in shock.

"You were at home? In Kingsport? Why didn't you tell me that you were going there?"

He moved up to sit against the headboard, pulling her into his side. "Because I wanted to surprise you, love. The Mushroom was fine as it was for last year- but I wanted to do better for us this time around. I took all my luggage back, and while I was there, I- I painted it." Anne could only gape at him in the lamplight, and he bent to kiss her forehead. "In Halifax, I ended up helping to paint the newspaper office after hours- the fellow they hired couldn't do it, and I volunteered it in the evenings for a week. There were a few tins of paint left over, and I offered to buy them from the editor- he told me that if I wanted them, I could have them. So I went home on Tuesday and spent two days painting the house in a white colour- eggshell, to be exact."

Anne blinked at him in shock. "And- and how does it look?"

He smiled at her. "You won't recognise the place, Anne. It looks like a proper cottage on the inside, now. Our bedroom has changed the most."

Anne snuggled against his side, loving the comfort of being together again. "Couldn't it have waited until I was there to help you?"

He shrugged, smiling at the way she moved into him. "We have to start college on Monday- I thought it best to have it done before we went back. Mrs Whitley is quite impressed by it- she's airing the place out for us this week." He paused then, twisting a long braid through his fingers, his brow lowering. "Anne, the- the last night we spent there- the things we said-"

"Gil, _don't_ -" Anne pleaded. "It's over now."

He shook his head, determined. "I wanted a fresh start for us this time, Anne. I don't want things to be the way they were."

Anne turned to kneel next to him on the bed, her hands cupping his face. "It _won't_ be, Gil. We aren't the same," she whispered. "I'm glad that you did it- but it was only ever a house. You and I are what makes the Mushroom a home."

Gilbert touched his forehead to hers, smiling. "I couldn't stand to wait for you there, sweetheart. As soon as I knew there was a chance, I was booking my ticket back to the island. I missed you every moment- I- I didn't feel whole without you. Your letters were wonderful, but they weren't any substitute for the real _you_."

Anne's look was tender as she moved to kiss him, his strong arms coming up to wrap around her waist. He pulled away far too soon though, and she touched his cheek in concern at the look in his hazel eyes.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

Gilbert sighed, his brow contracting. "Being with you- here, like this- you don't know what it means to me, Anne-girl."

She couldn't help smiling at his comment. "Gil, you did understand what I told you today, didn't you? That I love you? Of course, I know what it means."

He chuckled, lifting his hand to stroke the long red braid that hung over one shoulder. "Yes, I understood that- and I love you too. You must know that I'm happier than I've ever been in my life because of it. But you know that this between us- physically- could get complicated, really fast," he said quietly, pausing to brush a curl back from her forehead.

Anne's eyes were yearning, and she finally nodded. "I know."

"And we're here, like this- and I'm not ungrateful for what we have, but it's hard to not want more of you- to not want-"

She stopped his faltering words by nestling into his side again, smiling as Gilbert automatically wrapped an arm around her. "Do you think you are alone in that, Gil?"

"Sweetheart, I've had years to get to this point of desperation," he said wryly. "You've had three months. You can't blame me for thinking that you might need time to catch up."

Even in the dim light, he could see the twinkle in her eyes. "And yet I am a grown woman who is desperately in love with her husband." She exhaled, her fingers playing with the sleeve of his pyjamas. "I told you months ago that there was a pulling that terrified me between us- I suppose I am only just now starting to understand what that really was."

There was a silence, and she felt the sigh lift his chest under her cheek. "I thought- after I read your letter- that you might have been afraid of it- of intimacy- in relation to _me_."

Anne lay thinking for a time, not realising at first that her silence would sound like a confirmation to Gilbert. "I- I suppose- that is, no- not exactly."

"Again, not the resounding reassurance I was after."

Anne moved in his arms so that she could look down at him, slightly exasperated. "Gil, sometimes you need to hear me out before you decide if something is good or bad."

He chuckled, then. "I'm sorry. Continue."

"There was so much that drew me to you back then," she mused, her eyes distant. "You are a kindred spirit- you make me laugh, and feel safe- and yet, I also used to feel something that I didn't quite understand, and it scared me- something I suppose I might now call desire." Gilbert's hand moved up and down her back, as he listened to her carefully. "I sometimes felt as if I wanted to respond to you, somehow, but then I would fight the notion at the same time- no doubt causing me to appear to blow hot and cold at once," she mumbled.

Gilbert rolled over to rest his head on his hand, smiling at the fact that they could talk like this again, now she was with him once more. "That seems about right."

"I couldn't make it all make sense, Gil," Anne said, in some exhaustion. "If I was still so unsure about my heart, it didn't seem right to respond to you in- _other_ \- ways. When we first got married we had to live such a dual life before everyone else, trying to convince them that we were legitimately together- and it was so comforting to have you hold my hand, or put your arm around me, and I found that I loved it when you kissed me," she said candidly, making him laugh. "But even still, that seemed like too much, too fast-"

Gilbert sighed, cupping her cheek in one hand. "I know. You just weren't ready, then."

"No. And we've done everything in such a topsy-turvy way," Anne added slowly. "And yet somehow, that worked for us."

Gilbert leant in to kiss her, his hazel eyes warm. "It worked because we made it work, sweetheart. You know that. I knew our stubbornness would be good for something."

Anne gazed at him, a small smile on her face. "Then intimacy is just a new hurdle to jump over, isn't it?" she said softly. "When the time is right. I trust _you_. I just don't know how far I trust myself. My impulses got us married, remember."

Gilbert began to laugh. "Well, I still say that I trust you more than I trust _me_ , so that makes two of us." Anne couldn't suppress a yawn then, and Gilbert pulled back to blow out the lamp. He drew the covers up around them with a smile, drawing her down to the waiting pillows. "We've got all the time we need, now, sweetheart. Maybe we should get some sleep."

Anne sleepily mumbled an assent, and Gilbert's grin was enormous as he held her hand in his, allowing his body to begin to relax as hers did. Anne's breathing was soon soft and even beside him, and for a just a moment he listened to the sound, feeling whole for the first time in months. The room was still, and he breathed in the scent of the breeze that ruffled the green curtains, and in utter contentment, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Diana Wright opened her front door two afternoons later with an unearthly shriek that brought her husband running, only to be answered by a similar cry from Anne, who threw her arms around her beloved friend in excitement, before grabbing both of her hands, bouncing up and down on the doorstep as if they were little girls again.

Gilbert and Fred stood back on the veranda, watching the scene before them in amusement.

"Gil, _why_ do our wives scream when they get together?"

Gilbert chuckled at the sound of pride in Fred's words, every bit as delighted to be able to call Anne his own. He folded his arms as he watched Anne fondly. "It's women in general, I think- well, women who like each other, anyhow." Their conversation continued at a normal volume, unlike the two women, who were still excitedly talking over each other in the doorway.

"Good trip?"

"Long. It's good to be back."

Meanwhile, Diana had taken Anne's hand to drag her inside the house, and Fred followed with Gilbert at a more relaxed pace, pausing to show him around the house and yard, while the girls began to talk conspiratorially.

"I _cannot_ believe that he's here," Diana said excitedly. "You said he would be waiting for you in Kingsport!"

"He was supposed to be- not that I'm sorry for that." Anne smiled as Diana bustled around her kitchen. "It was the most wonderful surprise- I honestly don't know how I survived without him for three months."

Diana leant across to grasp Anne's hand knowingly. "It's real now, isn't it, darling?"

Anne laughed, her cheeks flushing. "I- it always _was_. I love him so, Di. I was just too foolish to see it before."

"Have you told him yet?"

She nodded, her grey eyes dreamy. "We went for a walk on the morning I arrived- and he was so happy, Di- I could only wish that I had known it years ago."

Diana sighed, resting her elbows on the bench. "It's wonderfully romantic, Anne. Especially after how miserable you both were before the wedding- I'm sorry that was the last thing that happened before you had to leave each other."

"No, no- it was- _fine_." Anne turned away lightly at Diana's words, not wanting her to see her suddenly flushed face. Her friend, however, had a sixth-sense about these things by now, and rounded the counter, her eyes twinkling. "Anne Blythe, did something interesting happen at my wedding?"

Anne opened her mouth to protest, however, the flush that seemed to cover her entire body gave her away, making Diana clap with glee. "Come on, darling, tell Di what happened…" she wheedled. At Anne's stubborn silence, she folded her arms merrily. "You were dancing awfully close, as I recall- and I didn't see either of you dance with anyone else that night."

Anne brushed a curl back from her forehead, trying to shrug nonchalantly. "Well, you know how strict it is at our formal dances- we were taking advantage of not having to change partners."

"And my mother said that the two of you left soon after we did."

"I- er- yes," Anne admitted, her face scarlet.

"So what happened that night?" Diana asked smugly, before pausing, her eyes suddenly enormous. "Anne, the two of you _didn't_ \- _did_ you?"

Anne began to laugh, her hand brushing her neck shyly. "No, we _didn't_ , Di. That was your wedding night, not ours. We- just went for a walk to the pond in the moonlight, and we kissed-"

"I'll just bet you did-"

"A _lot_ \- and we- we- just-" Anne came to a stop, and Diana caught the blissful look on her face, smiling.

"You don't need to tell me any more, Anne, if the two of you had a wonderful night, then that's all I need to know. I'm so happy for you."

Anne turned to her with twinkling eyes, her voice low enough so that the boys couldn't hear them. "So, then _why_ did you feel you needed to tell me everything about the two of you, Di? Especially while I missing Gilbert so horribly."

"You did destroy that letter, didn't you?"

"Torn into little pieces and sunk in my swamp, Diana," Anne said, much amused. "There may be a cow down there who can piece it together, however that would be all. Why _were_ you so candid, dearest?"

Diana laughed, moving back to the stove to take up the kettle. "It was our talk before the wedding, Anne. When I realised that the way the older ladies speak about intimacy just isn't accurate, I thought you might like to hear a different version."

Anne chuckled. "Well, you certainly gave it to me."

"And?"

"I look forward to when the time is right for us," Anne said simply, leaving Diana's mouth open in shock.

"And do you know when that might be?"

Anne shook her red head, a slightly wistful smile on her face. "We don't. Maybe not for a long time. Gilbert deserves the chance to go to medical school- I want him to have his dreams."

"And what about _yours_?"

Anne gave Diana a curious look. "Mine- are _changing_ , I think," she said slowly. "I'm not sure what the future will hold- I'm not sure what I can do. But I think- I want to help people who grew up- like me."

Diana's face lit up in understanding. "That would be wonderful, Anne. And you could do that from Kingsport?"

Anne smiled. "I don't know. I haven't a thing figured out- I haven't even talked about it with Gilbert yet. Besides, we still have nine months left until we finish college."

"Nine months," Diana said innocently. " _Interesting_. I wonder what you could do in that time."

Anne rolled her eyes, chuckling. "That is _not_ the plan, Diana, no matter what happens after we finish. I am not showing up to our graduation ' _great with child'_. That has to wait- and we have plenty of time on our side. After all, had we arrived at this point by normal means, we would have had a very long engagement ahead of us- at least four and a half years." The look of horror on Diana's face was comical, and Anne laughed. "As it is, Gilbert and I are together now, Di- and I couldn't be happier about that."

The tray was, at last, ready, and Diana heard the men standing on the veranda, talking as they looked out over the farmyard. She smiled, knowing that Fred would be in soon, and ushered Anne toward their tidy parlour.

"I know that there will be times when it won't seem this way, however it's rather like playing house right now- only with an actual house," the new housekeeper said, with a happy sigh. "I keep forgetting that Mother isn't standing behind me waiting to tell me what I'm doing incorrectly. You've no idea how freeing that is; even though she says plenty when she comes for dinner with Father and Minnie May. And Fred is so understanding when things go wrong- and he's so grateful for everything I do here. I think the last year here alone did that for him."

Anne chuckled, snuggled into the corner of the sofa. "He's waited for you for three years, Di- of course, he's grateful to have you here at last."

"And it's just as well, really. Any longer and one of us was going to do something exceptionally silly," she said, a twinkle in her dark eyes. "I can't tell you how many times we almost did something that might have hurried the wedding along a little."

Anne gave Diana an impudent look. "Is that perhaps an illusion to _us_ , Diana?"

Her friend laughed, handing Anne a lilac teacup. "Not at all. Although you have no idea how I envied you and Gilbert being away, Anne- here under the watchful eye of all Avonlea, it was exceptionally hard to avoid people's censure. I had Mrs Andrews go to my mother at the two-year mark- all because Fred put his hand on my waist at the church picnic. It's lucky they had no idea what happened _after_ the picnic," Diana said thoughtfully, making Anne laugh.

"Redmond is almost as bad, Di- only it's professors interfering, not village matrons- not to mention the other students. It was quite difficult to navigate, at times."

Diana sighed. "I know. Anne, was it really worth you and Gilbert staying there?"

Anne could hear Gilbert and Fred approaching, and smiled at her friend. "Every bit of it. We are finishing this together- and we'll simply have to see where that takes us."

* * *

The days at Green Gables passed in a happy whirlwind of activity. Anne saw Davy and Gilbert off fishing on the fine mornings, smiling at the look of glee on the twelve-year-old's face as he capered after Gilbert. Marilla told them that 'Gilbert said' was fast replacing 'Milty said'- marking a noticeable improvement in his conversation, she commented dryly.

Anne spent those mornings in the garden with Dora and Marilla, enjoying the sunshine and the time with family. Her presence had been most fortuitous, that week- on Monday morning, Marilla had handed a hysterical Dora over to Anne, saying only that her monthly visitor had arrived, as she disappeared herself to take care of the washing. Anne managed to calm poor Dora down, tucking her up on the sofa and talking to her sensibly about what was happening to her body. She hid a little smile at the uncharacteristically dramatic display from the girl, well remembering the way Marilla had handled a similar situation with her; insisting brusquely that it was all perfectly normal, and she had better just be getting on with it.

Several days later, and with everything in hand, for the time being, Marilla watched the two girls with some amusement. Dora weeded her little square meticulously, while Anne fluttered from patch to patch, exclaiming over the richness of the soil, and the beauty of the late summer plants. There were now vases in the house filled with the lacy branches of red Valerian, and even Mrs Lynde could be heard to comment that it was nice to have the house brightened up a little. The house came alive whenever Anne was home, Marilla thought with a pang- although her letters home kept them as close as they could be.

It was nearing noon when they looked up at the sound of Davy and Gilbert coming up through the woods, and Marilla smiled to see Anne's face light up at Gilbert's laugh in the distance. Having a man around the house was quite a change, she thought dryly- and she couldn't help but chuckle at the way Anne flew to meet him now, irrespective of the soil on her hands, and the fish dangling from Gilbert's line. He caught her around the waist and kissed her red head, and she smiled to see Davy rolling his eyes in disgust at their obvious affection for one another. She could never see it herself without wondering at the circumstances that had led the couple to this point, and couldn't seem to make herself feel sorry about it now, either- something Amelia herself had commented on with some guilt over tea one morning. The young pair were supposed to be together- and Marilla couldn't find it in her heart to wish for different timing.

The Blythes were frequent visitors at Green Gables that week, something that was reciprocated when Anne and Gilbert moved to the other house- both families had limited time with their loved ones, and it was decided that the best method was to share the young couple's time before they left for Kingsport again. For Anne and Gilbert it seemed like a week-long celebration- however most afternoons were kept sacred for their own ramblings.

There were hours spent lying beside Dryad's Bubble in the shade, dozing in the peace and quiet, and almost daily walks along the shore, discussing plans for the new year, and continuing to catch the other up on the weeks they had missed together. On the last afternoon at Green Gables their outing was spoiled by a sudden rain shower- however, a blissful hour spent in the warm, shadowy barn together more than made up for the walk that they had missed.

It was on Friday afternoon that Anne and Gilbert made the long walk to Hester Grey's garden, both agreeing at it was the perfect place to farewell the summer.

The garden bore testimony to the changing season, and Anne looked around in delight at the old pathways. The roses were still in bloom- so successfully that she wondered if some kind hand had pruned them. The red flowers glowed against the stone walk, and Anne looked out over the hazy valley, surrounded by the call of the sea- and through the birches, the brook that burbled and bubbled in the shallows. It was to this place that Gilbert led her now, the cool of the birch trees a welcome respite from the heat. She watched him look around in evident satisfaction, as he loosened his tie, before flopping onto the warm bank, a hefty sigh leaving his lips.

Anne sat down beside him, her look indulgent. "Why the sigh, dearest?"

He smiled, loving the endearment that flowed from her so easily. "I'm exhaling quite happily, I'll have you know. Come here."

Anne chuckled, pillowing her head on the sturdy arm he stretched out on the grass. He tucked her in beside him, his eyes closing in bliss.

"Oh, just imagine a whole summer like this, Gil."

He smiled, looking up into the trees, where a pair of sparrows were chattering excitedly. "Next summer. We'll do it then."

There was silence between them for a time, and Anne wasn't surprised to look over to see that Gilbert had dozed off on the warm grass beside her. She smiled, tempted to join him- however this would be their last summer afternoon at home- and the day was too glorious to waste.

She moved from his side after pressing a kiss to his brown cheek, and set about quietly removing her shoes and stockings, her grey-green eyes studying the ripples in the brook in wonder. There was a glorious time to be had wading in the shallows, and Anne did so, storing away countless pictures of beauty to sustain herself with over the winter- and always in the background was the image of Gilbert, resting on the banks of the little creek, his hat drawn over closed eyes. There were little dips in the creek where minnows played, and coloured stones glistening in the sunlight. She murmured lines of poetry as she gathered wildflowers by the water, the blue of asters, the creeping buttercup that trailed along the water's edge; it was everything her heart had been longing for over the long winter- and yet Anne found herself smiling now at the hint of autumn in the wind. It was almost time to go home.

As Anne stepped out of the water, she turned with keen eyes to the distant hills, memorizing the vista before her. They would work hard- and they would always return.

She walked up to where Gilbert was now stirring, his smile quizzical at her bare, wet feet and the pretty skirt that had grown damp as she played in the water.

"Has my wood nymph become a water sprite now?" he teased as he sat up, pulling her down onto his lap.

Anne chuckled, blushing as brown hands moved to wipe the water off the slender feet poking out from the voluminous petticoats she wore.

"Perhaps. I've made a decision, Gil."

"We're moving back to the island to start farming."

Anne laughed then, her hands cupping his face. "If I want to waste one of the finest minds of our generation, perhaps." She felt his arms tighten around her, and smiled. "No, I've come to another epoch in my life. I've realised that they can't ever be allowed to get to us again, Gil."

He blinked at her in some confusion. "I'm sure you're right- but what are you talking about?"

Anne rested her warm cheek against his, nestling into his arms. "I don't regret a thing, Gil. Our marriage was the best decision that we could have made last year- and as a result, I am far happier than I deserve to be," she said candidly. She watched Gilbert for a moment, knowing that he saw her for who she was- and that he loved her. "I think that I allowed our circumstances to change who I was, for a time. I let people's opinions hurt me- hurt _us_ \- and I refuse to do it again."

Gilbert's eyes caressed her delicate face, his fingers moving to stroke her soft cheek. "It didn't really change you, love."

Anne shook her head, a gentle look on her face. "No, it did- for a time. I don't think I even saw it until this summer- although now I realise that Phil was trying to tell me all along. But you and I survived it all. The gossip, the insinuations, the scandal- and we are going back to college together, for our final year, just as we always should have been."

Gilbert kissed her firmly then, his grin smug. "Anne-girl, we're going _home_ tomorrow. I can't tell you how glad I am to be saying that, finally."

"To our Mushroom. I've missed it, Gil."

He chuckled. "You know, in some ways, I feel as if I'm taking you home for the very first time."

Anne's smile was luminous, and she pressed her lips to his fervently, her heart beating madly as Gilbert turned to lay her down gently on the soft grass, his lips and body moving to cover hers in the afternoon light.

So long ago, she had told Matthew that it was impossible for her to be perfectly happy with red hair. Now, entwined in Gilbert's arms, she couldn't suppress the bubble of laughter in her throat, as she recalled with satisfaction how very wrong her younger-self had been.


	30. Chapter 30, The shape of things to come

**Thank you once again for your understanding, people, at the time it took to get you this update. There are several reasons for that: firstly, at the point I started writing on here, I was pretty bad at 'self-care'- you are now suffering from me learning to be a little more balanced in my life! I would apologise, however, it was very much needed. The other reason is that this chapter is a very transitional one- and this is the last run to the end. Bringing storylines home to roost isn't the easiest of things for me- and this one is a whopper! That being said, thank you to all of those who have followed this story- it means the world to me that you have enjoyed it, even if you weren't at all sure where I was going at first.**

 **We're on the home stretch now…**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 30**

The noise and commotion at the Carmody station on the bright Saturday morning could rarely have been equalled. Anne stood with the twins on the platform now, her arm casually around Dora as Davy talked about a fishing trip that he and Milty were taking that afternoon. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of all of the college students with their families- the Green Gables household had come to see the two of them off, the Blythes were talking with Moody's father and sister; Charlie was surrounded by the other Sloanes, loftily talking about his plans for the autumn, and at the sound of the train whistle in the distance, she turned in time to see Diana and Fred running along the platform to meet them.

"Di darling, whatever are you doing here?"

Her beloved friend was beaming, trying to catch her breath. "Oh, Marilla said that everyone was coming to see you all off- and Fred and I had some shopping to do in Carmody today. So we came in early to see you off." She turned to look around at the group assembled, and began to laugh. "Goodness, it's almost a party, isn't it?"

Anne shrugged, her smile bright. "When we get together with Priscilla and Stella, it often is. They wrote that they were spending the night in Charlottetown with Prissy's family."

Diana sighed, watching the happy hubbub. "I almost envy you, Anne, you have a circle of kindred spirits, wherever you go."

Fred came up behind Diana then, after greeting the menfolk, and Anne smiled at the easy manner in which he placed his arm around his wife. "Well, I must admit that I feel much better at leaving you this time, Di; knowing that you are finally living with Fred," she said cheekily, making Diana laugh, and Fred blush. They talked for another few moments as Fred turned to shake John Blythe's hand, and Anne and Diana exchanged surreptitious smiles as Mrs Lynde proceeded to lecture Anne on wearning warm enough clothing.

Over near the train office, Gilbert turned from where he had been placing the luggage to greet the station master.

"Back to the city then, Mr Blythe?"

Gilbert grinned. "Back to college, yes. You won't have us coming through here again till Christmas."

The older man chuckled. "Just as well. That little girl of yours cried for about an hour after you left, last time. You'd better not make it a habit." At Gilbert's look of shock, he shrugged. "It's hard to miss someone with that particular head of hair- especially when she's been coming and going all summer. Well, you'd better get yourselves ready- the train'll be along any minute."

Gilbert watched the man walk away with a big smile, and he made his way across the platform to Anne, who was now talking with his mother and Marilla. He paused to kiss her cheek, and she turned to him with a happy look.

"What is it?" she murmured, not seeing the way the other women stopped to watch them.

"You _missed_ me," he said smugly.

"You already knew that."

"I did. I'm just thankful."

Within minutes the train rumbled into the station, and Gilbert held Anne's hand tightly as the porters stepped off with alacrity to get the luggage. The goodbyes were swift with everyone then, and Gilbert couldn't keep the smile off his face, as the families crowded around them to see them off. With some difficulty he managed to extricate Anne from both Davy and Diana, stopping so that Anne could give Marilla one last hug. When Marilla pulled away from Anne, her look was unknowingly stern as she looked at the couple.

"Now, can we expect a little less drama from you both, this year?"

Anne's eyes sparkled as she gazed up at her husband. "You know that we didn't intend for last year's drama to happen, dearest of Marilla's. And we do intend to behave ourselves impeccably this year."

Marilla's look softened, having seen first-hand the happiness of the pair together. "Of course you will. All the same, you've both got a lot of work to do, now." There seemed to be something that she wasn't saying, and concern evident on her face as she continued speaking to Gilbert. "It's important that you both finish now. Mind that you don't rush into anything, either- you're both still very young."

Anne didn't notice the flash of comprehension on Gilbert's face, and she smiled as she kissed Marilla's cheek, also not seeing the swift nod he gave her guardian. He smiled though when Anne took his hand, and she waved at the group as Gilbert helped her on board, following behind Charlie and Moody, whose sister was waving madly near the windows. The whistle sounded, and there was a moment when the train lurched, and Gilbert caught sight of his mother simultaneously laughing and crying, Diana calling to Anne to write often, and a decorous line of Sloanes, looking faintly disapproving of the unbridled emotion on the platform.

As the train began to move, Anne turned to Gilbert with a smile, sinking down on the nearest seat with a sigh of relief. Gilbert grinned back, placing their hand luggage down, and removed his hat to place it in the rack above them. Anne was unpinning her own, placing it carefully in the striped hatbox she carried for the journey and setting it beside her on the shelf.

"To think that it's only the beginning of the day!" she murmured as he pulled her close to kiss her cheek, glad to have a moment to themselves while Charlie and Moody argued over where to put their luggage.

Gilbert chuckled. "And that we won't be home until after nightfall." He settled himself into the leather seat beside her as the train pulled away from the siding, and he took her hand with a slight smile. "I think Marilla might be worrying about you, sweetheart."

Anne turned to him, indulgently. "She's concerned over both of us, Gil. Like you say, parents will do that."

Curiously intense hazel eyes met hers, his smile twisting mischievously. "You didn't hear that little warning mostly aimed at yours truly? To let you finish college and not rush into anything?"

Anne blinked. "Surely that was to both of us."

Gilbert chuckled, rubbing his neck self-consciously. " _Nooo_ , I think that was her warning us to not make decisions that could start a family anytime soon."

"I- _oh_. But- Marilla knows- she _knows_ that we aren't-"

"I- I would guess that you told her everything about the last few months?"

Anne nodded. "After you left for Halifax," she said quietly. "She was concerned about me being away from you for the summer, if there was a possibility of me- well, being pregnant. She knows that we share a room at home- and I think it fairly obvious that we aren't where we were at the start of all of this."

The conversation continued quietly as the train began to leave familiar fields behind them, and the conscious looks between Anne and Gilbert prompted Moody to move his bags to a seat close to the middle, suggesting loudly that Charlie might want to do the same. Charlie had been eying the seat beside Anne and Gilbert, who for the moment were oblivious to the movements of their two classmates. There would be time enough once Priscilla and Stella had joined them, Moody figured; for now they could leave them be.

In the back of the carriage, Gilbert scowled at his wife. "Anne, if that possibility even existed, I wouldn't have left your side for anything," he muttered. "For heavens sakes, we've been careful, do they really think that we would be so impulsive now?" At the peal of silvery laughter beside him, Gilbert joined her somewhat reluctantly. "Alright. I suppose we _are_ the pair who arrived home married last Christmas without giving them any warning. Still, they could have a little more faith in us now."

"Wait, _they_?"

Gilbert grinned. "My father might have had a small word with me about it yesterday as well." He loosened his tie, amused at Anne's dismay. "And yet both households saw fit to make sure that we shared a bed this time. Human nature is a funny thing, isn't it?" He chuckled and then sighed. "I've missed us being at home."

"We're heading there now, Gil, remember?" Anne teased lightly. She understood what he was not saying- that he missed the privacy of working out their marriage alone. She paused, studying his dear face in the morning light. "I love that everyone wants to help us- however I think we need to figure this out for ourselves. We are adults, after all- and ultimately it's for us to decide, isn't it?"

Gilbert hesitated. "Marilla only wants the best for you, Anne."

"I think that is no less true of the two of us." At his stunned look, Anne sighed. "Didn't you say months ago that our marriage- including _that_ side of marriage was our business alone?"

"Well, yes, however, she is your guardian-"

Anne rolled her eyes and slipped the glove off her left hand to take his, touching the band on his finger. " _This_ says otherwise." At the frown on his face, she sighed. "I know that you feel a sense of responsibility to Marilla, and I honour that; however even she would agree that this is our business. We're married, Gil. She reminded Rachel of that when she tried to lecture you about your plans."

Gilbert gave her a quizzical look. "Nevertheless, evidently she is concerned that something could throw us off track- throw _you_ off track."

"Are _you_?"

Gilbert's look was unaccountably serious then, and Anne frowned at the sudden change in his manner. "Well, of course, I am. If you had to drop out of college, it would defeat the whole purpose of us getting married in the first place." He was silent for a minute then, watching the other passengers on the train, before speaking in a low voice. "I don't ever want you to resent me for what happened. I don't want to have talked you into something that ultimately didn't work."

He jumped when Anne turned to him, the fiery glint in her eyes warning him that he was on dangerous ground. "Gilbert, how easy is it to talk me into something?"

A hand came up to ruffle his hair, as Gilbert chuckled sheepishly. "Er- not very."

"Did you _need_ to twist my arm to make me agree to this? Would it have worked if you had?"

"No, I think you might have broken my nose."

Anne smiled sweetly. "I might have." She sobered then, wanting to get to the root of the worry on his face. "Gil, do you remember what we said back when we were deciding to get married? We weren't talking in terms of certainties then. We both knew that there was a chance that we wouldn't finish- and we took our chance anyway." He was watching her now thoughtfully, and Anne shrugged, her look gentle. "You can't decide that if something happens, that ultimately it didn't work- you and I are proof that it _did_. And you know that without being married to you, I would have had to leave school almost a year ago."

He gave a slight smile. "So would I. Anne, I'd never regret us, no matter what."

"But you worry that I might."

"No, I don't think you would- at least I _hope_ not," Gilbert said with a wry look. "I just- I know what you gave up, for me. I'm not saying that you didn't stand to benefit from it as well, but we both know that you wouldn't have chosen marriage just for the sake of your schooling." The conscious look on Anne's face was only a confirmation, and he sighed. "You did it for mine. I- I just worry that you might think- or the folks at home- that I somehow consider my education as being more important than yours. And I swear that I don't. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we finish together."

Forgetting that they weren't alone, Anne touched Gilbert's lean cheek, her eyes tender. "You are a goose, Gilbert. I know that- and you already _did_. And even if others are worried, don't try to fix something that was never broken between us."

He was silent for a moment, his brow lowered in thought. "You really aren't concerned?"

Anne chuckled. "To be honest, I'm excited, Gil. I'm looking forward to the challenges of our last year. I'm glad we are going home, I'm glad that we will see the girls soon- and even that you and I have a hard fight ahead of us this year for our degrees- and for the Cooper."

"That's _my_ fight, sweetheart," Gilbert reminded her, amused. "You don't want medical school."

"Not for myself, no." She seemed to need to gather herself then, and her chin lifted bravely. "If you want it, we will do whatever it takes."

"Including not allowing me to get caught up in our 'domestic concerns'?" He laughed as Anne folded her arms, scowling. "I'm kidding, sweetheart. Daniels didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't know _us_. Honestly, I wish everyone could spend their college years as we do." He shrugged at her curious look, smiling. "It's different when you have something, or _someone_ tangible to work for- and something worth coming home to. I would be prepared to bet that you found that out when you moved in with the girls."

Anne chuckled. "I suppose we did."

Gilbert's look was dreamy, and Anne smiled at the way he loosened his tie, settling back as the train moved through the wooded hills they had both passed through so recently. "I couldn't believe the difference between coming home to a boarding house, and coming home to the cottage- even if it was just twenty yards away. I'd walk up the pathway and see our home fire burning, and then _you_ would be inside. I used to wonder if it could possibly be real."

Anne looked at him in mock-scandal. "You mean my presence in your home could have only been some feverish delusion of yours?"

There was a long look between them then, and Gilbert smiled curiously. "If I were ever seriously ill- it would only be you that I dreamed of, sweetheart."

She chuckled, her look candid. "Then let us be thankful that events unfolded as they did, Gil- I'm sure I couldn't come up with something as farfetched as our actual story."

* * *

It was noon when Anne caustically commented that she had seen enough of Charlottetown for the year, as Gilbert helped her down to the city platform. She had hardly regained her breath when she was met with a piercing scream from both sides, and a blue and yellow travelling suit almost smothering her between them. Gilbert stood back with a grin, bending to pick up the bag Anne had dropped as Priscilla and Stella spoke over the top of each other in their excitement. They both looked wonderfully well, bright-eyed and flanked by Priscilla's younger brothers, now seventeen and nineteen. Both looked dazzled at the sight of their sister's pretty friends, and it took Mr Grant's stern look to remind them of their manners- Anne had not seen the boys since Queens, and smiled at the awed look on their faces when she introduced her husband to them, only looking away when an exuberant Stella grabbed her again.

"I cannot _believe_ you worked for the entire summer, Queen Anne- you missed my birthday party!" she half-scolded, adjusting the brim of Anne's now-crooked hat. "Only Prissy could be there, in the end."

"I thought it better to make sure I could return to Redmond with you- and that meant earning money, darling," Anne retorted.

Stella brushed that off breezily. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. I worked for the summer in Father's office, after all- you've no idea what those account books looked like before I got there. He's threatening to hire me again after college. And you'll never guess who _else_ was able to make it for my birthday- completely by accident."

"Who?"

"Tanner brought _James Caldwell_ home for a week."

Anne raised auburn eyebrows at the smugness in Stella's voice, and she lifted her shoulders in some confusion. "I- I don't know who that is."

Stella rolled her eyes, as she pointed at Gilbert. "He's the reason your last name is _Blythe_ , Anne- _used-to-be-Shirley."_

"You mean the young Goliath who left a boot-print on Gilbert's shoulder?" Anne exclaimed.

"Exactly! And he's _delicious_ ," Stella said wickedly.

Anne gaped at her friend in shock. " _Him_?"

Priscilla laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, I'm with Stella, Anne; he was delightful- and you know he didn't mean to do it. He's just very _strong_ ," she said feebly, as Stella tried to demonstrate by flexing the arms underneath impeccably tailored sleeves, making them laugh again. "I asked him if he remembered the accident- he was very sorry, by the way; he thought he had knocked someone down who was quite petite."

Gilbert had come up for the end of this conversation and snorted in derision. "Petite to a mammoth, perhaps," he muttered, seeing the twinkle in Anne's eyes as she took his hand.

Stella fixed her dark eyes on the pair speculatively. "You know, there's something different about the two of you. You shouldn't look this happy after a summer away from each other."

Gilbert shrugged. "Maybe we're just happy to be together," he suggested.

"Hmm. Perhaps. I'll figure it out. You know, I do hate that you live so far away from us," Stella grumbled unreasonably, as she moved the suitcase at her feet. "We don't get to see you nearly as often, now- and we always need an escort to walk home from your house after dark, Anne. Aunt Jimsie wanted to suggest it last year- she said that you could have simply had the bedroom downstairs together, and she would have gone into your room- and financially it would have been a breeze for all of us. The house is certainly big enough for one more person. You couldn't come back for our last nine months together?" There was an exchanged look of horror between the couple and a resounding _no_ that made Stella huff. "Oh, I suppose you like your privacy, now."

"Thank you, yes," Gilbert said firmly, somewhat discomposed by the suggestion. There was a look in Anne's grey eyes that he couldn't immediately interpret, and he raised his eyebrows when the Grants began to say their farewells to their daughter and guest. "You aren't tempted by that, are you?" he asked quietly, making his wife laugh.

"Do you honestly want everyone to see how we have been spending our free time over the past week?"

There was a flash in his eyes as he took in her heated gaze, and he chuckled. "No. I'm wondering how we're going to get anything done when we're actually alone."

There was an answering smile on her face, and she touched his cheek in her gloved hand. "We are both fearsomely competitive, Gil. We'll get our work done, I'm sure. After _that_ , however," Anne said mischievously, only to be interrupted by a triumphant " _AHA_!" from Stella, who was behind them now.

The couple turned too see her standing with her hands on her hips, her face smug. " _That's_ it! You're actually in love now! You told each other, didn't you?" She didn't wait for Anne or Gilbert to confirm it, and turned back to Priscilla with an impish look. "So Phil was the closest, she guessed September- I thought it would be last May."

"Moody and I both said Christmas- although he meant _last_ Christmas. We both got that wrong," Priscilla said thoughtfully, leaving Gilbert and Anne standing with identical looks of dismay on their faces.

"I think I want new friends," Gilbert spluttered. "Did _Charlie_ happen to make any predictions about us?"

Priscilla smiled. "He just thinks you always loved each other. Remember, he doesn't known about the accident."

Anne's cheeks were pink, and she turned her face to rest against Gilbert's shoulder. "Then Charlie is the closest," she said softly. "You all knew that, really."

Stella smiled at her. "Yes. We were just waiting for you to catch up, beloved. We're so happy for you both."

At this juncture the two boys arrived on the platform, having gone to grab a copy of the Charlottetown times before leaving the island. There were greetings all around, and before too long the group began to head for the quay, after Gilbert and Moody borrowed a trolley to move the luggage that would go with them on the boat. Gilbert slung his small bag on the top, once more grateful that he had left most of his belongings in Kingsport. As the group moved through the crowds talking merrily, he found himself grinning. It was a party, as Anne had described just that morning- and he smiled, thinking that it was the perfect way to start the new year.

* * *

Even a long journey will eventually end, and it was late on Saturday evening when Anne and Gilbert paid the cabdriver and walked up the pathway to their little house, leaving a surprisingly jovial Charlie on the steps of the boardinghouse. A column of smoke rose from the chimney of their Mushroom, and Anne smiled at the sight.

"Mrs Whitley must have come in earlier," Anne commented fondly, chuckling as Gilbert rifled through his pockets to find his keys. After some minutes of this, Anne shook her head with a little smile, and reached inside his coat pocket to find it hiding there.

"However did you find that, Anne-girl?" Gilbert asked her, flabbergasted.

"Because I watched you put it in there this morning, dearest."

He grinned and bent to kiss her swiftly, pulling away when he felt her shiver in the cool wind. In a trice, the door was unlocked, and Gilbert bent down to sweep a laughing Anne off her feet in a bridal hold, his grin enormous. "I couldn't do this the first time we came home- however, I assume you won't protest it now," he said cheerfully, chuckling as she kissed him exuberantly mid-air. He set her down in their home unsteadily, and Anne straightened up to gaze around the little house as Gilbert moved to light the oil lamp they kept on the kitchen table. Their cottage smelt fresh and clean, and firelight flickered over the newly-painted walls, and the photos Gilbert had carefully placed back on the white mantelpiece. Gilbert went outside to retrieve the bags from the stoop, and Anne smiled at the difference a fresh coat of paint had made as she carried the lantern through to the bedroom, blinking in shock at white walls, and a clean, white ceiling.

"You know, I couldn't picture it," Anne said in wonder, as Gilbert dropped the bags on the floor behind her. "I suppose I had just come to accept our brown ceiling as a fact. However did you have enough paint to do the whole house?"

"I didn't mention that I had to catch the train with three big tins of paint?"

Anne gaped at him. "Three! Goodness, that must have cost you a fortune, Gil."

"Nope. I did offer to pay, but Mr Druthers wouldn't take it," Gilbert said frankly. "The fellow who was supposed to do it ordered too much paint- and they didn't want the bother of storing the excess. All I had to do was get it home- which was no treat, by the way. I even had enough to do the outhouse."

Anne peered through the window, however, the yard was in darkness, and she turned back to see a yearning look on Gilbert's lean face as he stood watching her. She walked into his open arms then, her look gentle.

"What is it?"

He smiled, and let out a sigh, holding her tightly. "Nothing. I'm so glad to be back here with you- but I'll be honest, I'm not looking forward to you going back to your own bed."

"Well, what if I didn't?" she asked innocently. "That is, if you really want to share your bed with me, Gil."

"Oh, I _want_ ," he said emphatically, and then couldn't help laughing at his own enthusiasm. "Are you sure, though, Anne?"

"Well, actually," Anne began, rather vexed at her pink cheeks, "I- I decided that I didn't want to sleep apart from you again on the night of Diana's wedding." Gilbert released her in shock, sitting down on the bed behind him. Anne bit her lip as she moved to him, her look now hesitant. "I should have talked to you first, really, however, I suppose- I had planned to come home and sleep in your bed from now on."

Gilbert couldn't seem to get his breath back, a wondering smile growing on his face. "You mentioned something like that to me- but I didn't think you could be serious, yet. Even- even after- even _before_ -" She smiled and nodded, and Gilbert closed his eyes. He'd had just one week to get used to this- and it wasn't enough, he thought hazily, as her fingers traced his jaw. Perhaps it would never be enough.

"Even before I knew that I loved you? Yes," she admitted. "We needed this. I may not have realised the scope of my feelings at the time, however, we are husband and wife. I wanted to be with you. And I have no intention of spending another cold winter alone in that bed."

Gilbert's laughter was joyous, as big hands came up to hold her by the waist. "Is that what this is all about? Warmth?"

Her eyes sparkled at him, even as she blushed. "When two lie together, they shall have heat," she murmured, chuckling at the hot flush that covered his face at her words. "You know that I didn't really sleep, the night after the accident. That same Bible verse kept tormenting me- and then I started wondering if you were cold in your boardinghouse."

"Sometimes," he admitted easily, drawing her close and resting his head against her slim form. "Were you cold here last winter?"

Anne laughed, pulling away only to sit down on his lap, his arms surrounding her easily. "No, not at first. I was too busy blushing, for the first few months. Whenever I heard you in the night, I kept thinking, _that's Gilbert Blythe, sleeping in my bedroom-_ and I'd have to open the window just to cool down."

"Ah. I just assumed you liked the fresh air."

"Oh, I do - but an easterly Kingsport wind in December? No, thank you."

Gilbert smiled, enjoying holding her close. "I used to close it after you were asleep anyway. You were always snuggled down under your covers- sometimes I could only see the top of your red head in the moonlight." He moved back to see her properly, then, his look serious. "Are you sure about this? I can wait, Anne-girl. It won't exactly make it easier for us to- to hold everything else back."

Anne's smile was mischievous. "And how often do you think I will end up in here if we _don't_ choose to share?"

A deep chuckle was her answer, and he hugged her slim body to him tightly. "Alright; all the time, if I had my way," he admitted.

"Then suppose we simply accept it now, and accept that it will come with its own challenges."

Gilbert pressed a kiss to her temple, with a smile. "You know, you're really very smart, Mrs Blythe."

Anne smiled brilliantly. "I know."

* * *

Whether it was the lure of the bed they now shared or the long day, it was only a short time later when Gilbert came out of the annexe in his pyjamas, grinning hugely at the sight of Anne snuggled up on what was now her side of the bed. He blew the lamp out and climbed under the covers, seeing that she was almost asleep, and he leant down to kiss her soft cheek. A slight murmur was all that was met with, and he smiled as she burrowed further under the covers, before lying back in bed himself with a deep sigh, his hand ruffling brown curls tiredly.

It was with relief that Gilbert could finally check off the summer, and with the knowledge that Anne loved him he could let go of the nervous expectation he had lived with for the past ten months. She was right, he thought, as he drifted toward slumber. They were ready for this- and they would see what would happen when tomorrow came.

* * *

After a lazy Sunday in which Anne and Gilbert brought their kingdom back in order, the new pink teacups in pride of place on the shelves, and a bookshelf Gilbert had sourced from somewhere now able to hold their entire collection of books. Mrs Whitley had added to their kitchen collection over the past week, (carefully itemized on a new list, much to Anne's bewilderment) and it took almost an hour for her to restore order to the cupboards that Marilla would have had a conniption at. By the end of the afternoon, their house was in order, and the two of them attended a quiet evening service at the Presbyterian church before a cosy evening before the fire that was lit on their return.

Monday morning came quickly, and Anne found herself sitting in the front row of the auditorium with a vacant seat beside her, while Gilbert waited on the side of the stage for his cue to speak as the newly elected president. The fresh autumn breeze came in through open windows as the students around her murmured quietly, and she turned to see the girls sitting along the row, Phil's new hat gloriously feathered and teasing the gentleman beside her. Charlie sat near Moody eying a young lady some rows back, and in her peripheral vision, she could see Roy Gardner looking bored beside Christine Stuart on the right. On the stage sat the professors who had so influenced their lives to date- Professor Daniels watching his protege carefully, Professor Winston nodding at her from the back- and Professor Hallett, who had just left his daughter's side to ascend the podium. All around them were the same challenges they had left behind them in May- no doubt with many more in the year to come.

Anne drew in a breath, smoothing the skirt of the green suit she wore. She looked up in time to catch Gilbert's eye, who immediately winked at her, raising his eyebrows suggestively. She couldn't help but laugh as her husband was announced and crossed the stage to speak, his voice firm with the speech they had written together on the late train to Kingsport. She settled back in her seat, knowing that he would join her as soon as he was done- and that they would face every challenge together.

When the applause of the room sounded and the students stood, Anne smiled. Their senior year had begun.

* * *

 **I don't normally leave you a postscript- but I just had to do it this time. There was a brief second where I considered something I never thought I would- a different ending to the one that I have planned. I was writing Gilbert and Anne's conversation on the train about Gilbert considering that he had imagined the whole thing- and I suddenly got chills, and thought _what if he did?_ Someone mentioned something similar while I was writing Shore of Dreams- and for a brief moment, I considered the two possibilities.**

 **First, that he wakes up in the medical tent alone and realises that he dreamed the whole thing, only to have Professor Hallett and Daniels come in, telling him that a very cross Miss Shirley is outside, and asking after him.**

 **Secondly, and much worse, he wakes up after typhoid only to remember that they _didn't_ marry- he lost the girl he loved, and graduated without her, as per canon.**

 **As I said, it was only for a second- but to betray my Star Trek roots I will misquote Lieutenant Data: _For a writer, that is almost a lifetime._**

 **Love to you all, and rest assured, MY ending is going to happen, no matter what. I think you'll like it much better.**

 **Cate.**


	31. Chapter 31, A Night with the Blythes

**SHE LIVES!**

 **Reports of my death are wildly exaggerated, however, I want to thank you all who sent me beautiful messages to ask if I'm okay. Truthfully, I haven't been; however, things have taken a turn for the better now, health, emotional and family-wise. It was a number of things- we have four family birthdays in just over a month in my house, and I have been learning to get more sleep, after micro-sleeping in front of my laptop far too often. And at the top of the list was this mammoth of a chapter, which worked well in my head, and less so in actual word-typie things. Every message sent me back to the computer to try hammering it out, so thank you for your encouragement. Thank you all for following this journey with me- just thank you. Much love also to Carrots, who was cheering me on from the other side of the globe.**

 **Love to you all, and after waiting a month I REALLY hope you like it...**

 **Cate.**

* * *

The first weeks of the senior year passed swiftly, and to Anne's surprise, it was the beginning of October before she had realised that September had ended. The tree outside the Mushroom cheerfully shed its leaves on the roof of the cottage, keeping Gilbert busy every afternoon in an effort to keep it clear. Several times Anne had been called out to hold the ladder steady for him, only to end up deluged in damp, colourful leaves- and it might have been suspected that Gilbert enjoyed himself thoroughly, as a change of pace from the busyness of classroom work.

Professor Daniels had been quick to lock Gilbert into a pattern of study above and beyond his regular work, and twice now he had visited the couple in their little home, to be met with a warm tea tray and the expanse of the kitchen table to work at; while Anne toiled away quietly at her desk in the corner, sheets of writing piling up under the desk in her neat hand. Red maple leaves adorned the picture frames and mantel now, and the gentleman congratulated the pair on their comfortable home- before sitting down to discuss the latest advances in chemistry with his favourite student over Marilla's plum tart.

Anne was relieved to see that Gilbert was thriving under the workload. He had his own work well in hand thanks to his work over the summer and had been engaged as a tutor to several of the younger students. These came around to the Mushroom to study on Wednesday evenings. Mrs Whitely had invited Anne to use her parlour to study in after observing the boisterousness of the group of young men in the small house- and after a fruitless attempt at reading in their bedroom on their first week, Anne accepted thankfully. She would meet the gentlemen at the door already holding her satchel, and Gilbert would kiss the top of her head as he saw her off, his eyes twinkling at her evident relief at escaping. It was a good thing, he thought privately- Johnston and Andrews both appeared to be struck dumb by his lovely wife, and he couldn't get a sensible word out of them while she was present.

He and Anne had sat down to work out their schedules in their first week back at home- and it became apparent that they would need to guard their time together carefully as the timetable grew. After some deliberation Gilbert had chosen to remain on the football team despite the extra time it consumed, reflecting that some extra physical activity might be a good distraction at the moment. He couldn't help but laugh at Anne's evident satisfaction at this decision- she had only stared at his biceps dreamily, saying that no doubt the extra exercise would be beneficial.

Anne's own work was absorbing, and she spent considerable time talking with Professor Winston about what she was aiming for in the coming year. She had chosen to not sign up for the debating club and several other committees, telling Gilbert that she had some other projects in the works- projects that could be accomplished before their own fireplace over the coming winter.

* * *

On this particular evening, supper was almost on the table. Gilbert would arrive home at any moment from a late class in the chemistry laboratory, usually hungry after a heavy day of classes. Anne looked around her little house in satisfaction. It was as immaculate as one would expect from someone raised by Marilla Cuthbert, and she had, at last, managed to catch up on her correspondence around her daily chores.

She herself had received an almost incoherent letter from Diana that day, confiding that it was possible that she was pregnant- of course, she should wait to talk about it until she was _sure_ , however the letter had seemed to write itself, she declared brightly, gushing over the possibility of having her very own baby Anne by the next summer. Fred had apparently become a bundle of nerves overnight, it seemed, and was unable to look her father in the eye at Sunday dinner. Diana had only rolled her eyes, pointing out that her father had allowed her to marry him. Would he be so unreasonable if their own daughter was newly married? At this point Fred had needed to sit down, with a look of horror on his suddenly white face, presumably at the thought of having to safeguard a daughter from men just like himself.

Anne was almost giddy with excitement herself at the news. Diana had declared that of course Anne would be an honorary aunt, and that she must be home by the time the baby arrived. This made a more experienced Anne smile a little. Babies would come when they would come- she and Gilbert would be there in June, and no earlier. Nevertheless, she went about her work that afternoon with a little smile, certain unspoken dreams hovering about her as she worked.

When the door opened, at last, Anne made to greet Gilbert only to stop at the sight of the pile of paperwork precariously balancing in front of him, as he tried to close the door with his foot.

"What on earth is all this?" she exclaimed, quick to reach out to help him with his load.

Gilbert shrugged behind the pile, and leant down to kiss her. "Extra work. It's just as well. Clearly, I was growing bored."

Anne rolled her eyes at his dry tone, and placed the stack of papers down on the table. "This isn't even your own work," she commented, looking at the handwriting on the top sheet.

"It's not. It's for the Cooper." Anne looked at sea at this comment, and Gilbert turned to lean against the kitchen bench tiredly. "The Cooper Prize isn't just about marks- it's about education, primarily. The committee is concerned with education in general- it finances any of the post-graduate programs that Redmond offers."

Anne frowned at him. "Then why did I think it was only about medical school?"

"Because that was all I was considering, I suppose," Gilbert said absently.

She turned to him, a curious look on her face. " _Was_?"

"Oh- I meant _is_."

Anne nodded, before moving back to the oven to check on her pie. "That doesn't explain what looks like several classes worth of marking."

He grinned, taking the cloth from her shoulder to remove their dinner from the oven. "Trust another teacher to recognise it. But essentially, yes, that's what it is. All fourth-year candidates are given to a professor to work under. Professor Walker is mine- and he thought I might have some fun marking chemistry assignments. This is the first and second-year work."

Anne chuckled. "And the fact that you are a qualified teacher is proving useful too, isn't it? I should have thought Professor Daniels would request you."

"Oh, he wanted to- only it would be a conflict of interest, with him being the head of the committee," Gilbert said lazily. "I'm fine with that- I see him often enough as it is."

Anne smiled, moving to get plates from the cupboard. "He caught me at the end of class today. He asked me how I was finding my senior year."

"No more warnings?"

She laughed then. "No, we seem to have left that behind us- for now. I'm sure if he comes over here and sees you 'wasting your potential' doing menial chores with me, he will say something about it." The two of them had been working seamlessly at preparing for dinner, and at this Gilbert stopped to give her a hard kiss on the mouth.

"Let him say whatever he wants. We're a team, you and I."

* * *

The stillness in the air that night was unnerving, and Gilbert frowned slightly at the starless sky as he brought in firewood from the pile behind the house. Training that afternoon had been done with one eye on the dark clouds, and he had passed Mrs Whitley in the yard, carrying big baskets of not-quite-dry clothes away from the washing line. This winter was already going to be much better than the last- and that one had been exciting enough, he thought dryly, as he went through to the bedroom to get changed.

Anne had rearranged their room within days of arriving home. Her small bed had been moved into the corner, with the intention of turning it into a daybed- however in their busyness, as well as cushions and pillows it now held books and papers, and an assortment of discarded clothes. He crossed the room, pulling an old jumper from the end of his bed- _their_ bed, he now corrected himself with a grin. Her pillow lay neatly beside his, her nightgown on the hook beside his pyjamas. At times he couldn't help but be overcome with sheer happiness at Anne's presence in his life- the last time he'd felt this euphoric, he'd waltzed her around the house without explanation before tumbling onto the sofa with her and proceeding to disturb her carefully pinned hair. It was all delightful, he realised, moving out to where Anne had their supper waiting.

* * *

Several hours later, Gilbert's marking was spread across the kitchen table, and Anne was curled up on the sofa with a notebook and the novel she was currently engrossed in. Every now and then Gilbert would look up from his work to smile at the picture she made- her glossy red head shining in the firelight, her grey eyes wide as they flew across the page. Gilbert threw his pen down then, watching the fire restlessly. He stretched his arms, trying to figure out how many more hours he would need to complete the work before him. Was he in need of a run or just a break for the night?

At that precise moment, a heavy crack of thunder broke overhead just as the clock struck nine; Anne let out a bloodcurdling shriek and leap approximately a foot off the sofa, as her book flew across the room and struck him squarely in the face.

At Gilbert's yelp Anne dissolved into helpless laughter, as she crept around the sofa to her husband, desperately trying to sober up as he lay his head on the table, clutching his head with a pitiful groan while the storm rumbled loudly above them.

"I'm so sorry, Gil, but the thunder, and the clock; and then they _killed_ him," she said feebly, kneeling by his chair and trying to touch his face.

There was another muffled groan, and Gilbert lifted his head from his hand, one eye resolutely shut. "I thought we were beyond you breaking things over my head, Anne-girl."

She chuckled, wincing at the sound of the thunder still rolling overhead. "Here, stop being such a baby and let me look at it," she said, tender fingers sliding over his brow, smoothing the small lump the corner of the book had made. "It's just as well that I was only reading a _little_ book this time."

He blinked, straightening up. "Now, who got killed? Apart from me?"

"Sir Danvers Carew was clubbed to death by a madman just as the storm broke. And I jumped," Anne protested, only to make him laugh again.

"Jekyll and Hyde? Anne, that book has been on our shelf for six months now! Why choose to read it tonight?"

Anne shrugged, leaning into his side. "Oh, Professor Winston recommended it to me the other day- we were discussing character flaws in stories- something about the damage we do when we choose to repress the baser sides of ourselves."

His pain forgotten, Gilbert gave an unseen grin, his arm around his wife. "I suppose so," was all he would trust himself to say. "Anyway, this storm won't let up anytime soon- and I'm going cross-eyed trying to interpret some of the youngsters' bad handwriting. I say we leave it for the night."

"Gil, those youngsters were us not two years ago. How can you be so patronising?"

At this, he snorted and fished a page out from the desk. "Easily, love. Take Jerry Rylan. He's seventeen. Does that not seem young to you?"

Anne shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "Had I accepted the Avery, I would have been here at sixteen and a half, remember. We didn't all have your venerable years-"

She was stopped by the strong arm that seized her waist, picking her up neatly to hold her in place on his lap, Gilbert's hazel eyes twinkling at her laughter. "Now hold on a minute, darling wife; I'm just _twenty-four._ Not eighty. And Jerry could have been either one of our students- he would have been twelve when we began teaching."

Anne shifted to get comfortable on his lap and picked up the paper, frowning at what was certainly a smudged mess. "Was he in a hurry when he did this, do you think?"

"I'm sure I don't know- but I'll get him in my study group next week. Loads of potential, apparently- but he struggles in the classroom. I'm supposed to see what I can do for him."

"Any more people and you'll need to hold it in a classroom, Gil."

Gilbert sighed, holding her tightly. "Do you really want me to be out another night of the week, Anne?"

Anne snuggled into his neck. "You know that I don't- however I don't know how many more people you can fit in our Mushroom. We're full to capacity."

He chuckled, taking great delight in holding her close and loving the way she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Certainly right now."

Gilbert closed his eyes as she pressed her lips to his own, still in faint disbelief at the way Anne shifted against him, the pink flush of excitement that spread so enticingly down her skin. He'd been so afraid that she would never feel for him the way he did for her- and as the storm rumbled overhead, her slender fingers tangled in his thick curls as she pulled herself even closer to him, her fingers loosening his already loose tie. Let the storm do what it would outside- he had all he needed right here.

"Now, you mentioned a three button-rule," he mumbled teasingly against the pulse that had quickened under seeking lips. "I'm curious. Do I get to decide which buttons?"

This made her laugh in earnest. "Gil! I merely said that it was Diana and Fred's rule for all of those years. Although she _did_ indicate that the rule was more of a general guideline," she said, thoughtfully. "Somehow I don't believe that you and I would find it practical for very long. After all, we _are_ already married."

Gilbert grinned. "Just as well. I doubt that I could even count to three right now." Anne squealed as he stood up with the intent to move them both to the much more comfortable sofa when a sudden pounding of footsteps was heard, and a thump on the door sounded. Anne and Gilbert looked at each other in consternation as he set her down, just as a familiar voice was heard over the rain.

"Anne, for heavens sakes, let us in!"

After a shocked moment, the door was flung open to reveal a sopping wet Stella and Phil, shivering on their doorstep in the darkness. Both Anne and Gilbert gaped foolishly for a moment, before leaping into action, taking coats and ushering the girls before the fireplace.

"We had a meeting with the reception committee," Stella explained with chattering teeth, accepting the cup of tea that Anne forced into her hands some minutes later. "Aunt Jimsie said that we would probably get caught in the rain, and she was right, as always-" Gilbert grinned when Phil scowled at that. "And she told us to come here if the storm got really bad-"

"As well you should," Anne said firmly, handing the girls each a towel. "Crossing the bridge in this weather is unthinkable. You'll stay the night here."

Phil sighed, dropping to the chair beside Stella. "Thank you, honey. We're sorry- it isn't as if you were expecting anyone on a night like this."

Gilbert shrugged easily. "What matters is that you're both safe. You know you'd do the same for us. We were done studying for the night in any case- and we'll look at some supper once you're dry."

Anne left the girls by the fire to have a quick conference with Gilbert in the tiny kitchen, as he pulled out some soup that Anne had made earlier.

"I'll sleep on the sofa tonight, you can stay with the girls in our room," he said in an undertone.

Anne chuckled. "Isn't that what we are supposed to do when we fight?"

"But without the fight."

She paused for a moment, and he smiled at the reluctance on her face. "I suppose that's logical."

"What else would you expect from me?" he teased. "Or should I just head over to the boardinghouse for the night?"

Anne pouted, as his arm came around her waist, after ascertaining that the girls were otherwise occupied. "No. I just thought that we said that we weren't going to sleep apart again."

"It's only one night, Anne-girl; and it's not like I'll be far away. You know you would have thought of it if I hadn't."

" _Still_ ," she mock-grumbled, pausing to chuckle at the smug look on his face.

Anne was soon ushering the girls into the bedroom to change in to dry clothing, pulling out her warmest nightgowns for the pair as they spoke about their harrowing walk through the park.

"We're lucky you live so close to the school- I shouldn't have liked to be out there for any longer tonight. It was like something out of your Haunted Wood, Anne- groaning trees, great cracking boughs, and the heavy pounding of the sea. If I had any more imagination I would have run through the woods screaming like a banshee," Stella said brightly. "As it was, even Phil got scared."

"I did not!" Phil said indignantly from behind the screen.

Anne chuckled at the image. "Your clothing should be dried by morning, I think- although you won't have the books you need for your classes. Is it worth going home in the morning first?"

Stella came out from the little annexe with her wet clothes in one hand, a thick flannel nightgown covering her head to foot.

"Probably not- but we'll manage. I always underestimate how tall you are, Anne," she grumbled, good-naturedly. "What must life be like from your exalted height?"

Phil snorted, coming to sit on the bed in the nightgown. "I know. Just a few more inches and we would be able to reach the place where Aunt Jimsie hides the sugar cookies. Prissy isn't always there to get them down for us."

Anne chuckled, hunting out a cardigan for each girl from her drawer. "You find ways around that, I'm sure." She started to move things off her old bed, not seeing the uncomfortable look between the girls.

Stella cleared her throat, only now noticing the way the bedroom was laid out, and that Anne was moving to change the sheets on the double bed. "Anne, we're both fine to sleep in the living room- we don't want you to rearrange everything for us for just one night."

Anne turned to them curiously. "It's no trouble. Gil will sleep on the sofa, and the three of us will be in here for the night. There are beds for three, after all."

Phil seemed to pale uncomfortably as she looked toward the double bed. "We don't want to kick Gil out of his own room, Anne."

Anne blinked at the pair, not used to seeing either of her friends so bashful. "He suggested it- and it's the easiest solution."

Stella folded her arms, her dark eyes uncertain. "Yes, but things are different, now. The two of you are really _married_."

"We've been married for almost a year," Anne reminded them logically.

Phil choked and gestured toward the bed, her cheeks now very pink. "Anne, you and Gil clearly share a bed, now. That's a fairly new development, isn't it?"

Anne turned to the pair, her eyes sparkling. "The two of you have been pushing me for the past year to accept the fact that Gilbert and I are married and utterly crazy about each other. Why should that make you uncomfortable now?"

"That's because you were running away from it, back then," Stella said crossly. "You got more embarrassed than we did. Things aren't the same now, are they? And we're actually staying in your home- and _in your marriage bed_!"

Anne couldn't help but laugh at her beloved friends. "And to think you wanted us both to live with you for the year," she teased. Her look was loving, then. "You're right- things have changed. But you are always welcome in our home- we would have been terribly cross to find that you'd tried to walk home in this weather."

"A married couple should have their privacy," Phil mumbled, looking in askance at the big bed. "I wasn't even allowed to go into my parents' bedroom as a child."

Even Stella looked mildly surprised by this, however, she shook her head, turning back to Anne. "We just don't want to disturb the two of you."

Anne gave the pair a firm look. "You aren't. You've been in this room before, you needn't be embarrassed now," she said calmly. She paused then, her cheeks pink. "Although if it makes you feel any better, we haven't exactly- we still haven't-"

Stella gaped at Anne. "But you share a _bed_!"

"Yes. We do. And it's lovely if I'm honest. However, we still have to finish college."

Phil exhaled, some of her humour returning. "Well, there is that."

Anne's shoulders lifted, smiling. "A year can change a lot of things. Come on, it's a rare night that we get to spend together, like this. Gilbert will almost be done with supper for us- he's really very good in the kitchen, now. I could only wish Prissy had come with you."

"Not this time, you don't- she's miserable at home with a head cold. Aunt Jimsie wouldn't let her come out tonight- and thank heavens for that. I'm not in the mood to see her develop pneumonia."

The girls followed Anne out the door, cardigans and shawls in place to find the table set simply, and a pot of tea waiting for Gilbert to return with the cups. Phil sighed in relief at the sight and fell into a seat, while Stella was handed the bread and butter.

The girls soon forgot their initial discomfort and while the rain fell overhead steadily, the four of them feasted around the table happily. Anne couldn't help smiling at the sight of Phil and Stella teasing Rusty with scraps of food, and pestering Gilbert for the latest information on the football team- Stella's question, naturally. After a custard pie that Anne had tucked in the back of the pantry, Phil insisted on reading the exam papers that Gilbert had been marking, pausing to laugh at odd answers and challenging him on the some of the marks he had given. The pair were just arguing over the need for the present chemistry syllabus to be updated when Stella moved to sit beside Anne on the sofa, snuggling under the afghan Mrs Lynde had made.

"I love what you and Gilbert have here, you know, honey," Stella commented dreamily. "It really does seem as if you've magicked this place into a home. I confess that we often bemoaned the thought of you having to be here without us."

Anne smiled. "I told you all that I was fine. The cottage was never the problem, really- we've loved it here, despite its many faults. It was only out _there_ that things got difficult."

"Speaking of which, I heard from Tanner last week."

Anne had failed to see the connection of the last two statements and frowned. "Oh?"

Stella pulled the blanket around her morosely. "Father expects him back home as soon as his law degree is done."

"And he doesn't want to go?"

"No. Mount Herbert isn't large- they already have a solicitors office- and so he wants to go somewhere else. And not Charlottetown," she stated. "He wanted to know if I'd ever thought about moving somewhere other than the island after I finished at Redmond."

"O-oh. You mean he wants you to go with him?"

"Yes. He figured if we both went, our parents might be more understanding about it all- they've always complained that we aren't together since we have to be so far from home. He's thinking about Vancouver."

Anne looked at her curiously. "Stella, what do _you_ want after you finish? Do you want to teach again?"

Stella sighed and leant her head against the sofa, listening to the fire crackle. "I want to use what I've learned. Somehow, somewhere- maybe teaching. I don't want to just pack away my schooling and have it lie idle while I listen to the gossip at the local sewing circle with my mother."

Anne smiled at her. "So your talk about 'delicious' men isn't because you are hankering to settle down with one of them yet."

Stella laughed. "Oh, not yet. Someday. When the right delicious one comes along, perhaps."

There was a short silence between the two friends, and Anne looked at her consideringly. "Vancouver is famous for its mountains, apparently. You could climb them."

"Or sit at the bottom and look up at them admiringly. If you want someone to climb with, you want Prissy. Would you and Gilbert come and see me? Around your ten children?"

" _Ten_?" Anne spluttered.

Stella gave the gentleman in question a quick look, his brown head thrown back in laughter at a comment from Phil. "With the way he looks at you, Anne, I'd be surprised if it was any less."

"You know, you are awfully bold for a girl who was squeamish about staying in our bedroom not an hour ago."

"Anne, it was a shock, that's all. You didn't tell us that things had progressed that far."

Anne smiled. "It wasn't consciously kept from you- although I was hardly going to bounce up to you at college and announce in front of everyone that Gilbert Blythe and I were sharing a bed."

Stella choked at this. "Good heavens, I hope not." She began to laugh at herself then. "I sometimes forget how far the two of you have come- I still remember your white face telling us that you either had to marry him, or leave college. And now, here you are, building a future and living happily in a cottage that should have been condemned years ago."

Anne's eyes flashed indignantly. "It may not have looked pretty, but you can't condemn something on looks alone. Leave our Mushroom alone."

Stella grinned at her. "I saw your face after you'd first seen this place, remember. Love must have stained the memory backwards."

Anne laughed at that. "Or paint, perhaps. We could be living in a boardinghouse, or a dingy apartment- and so we are very happy to be here, for now, at least. I should one day like to have another room though- storming out in an argument is not quite as satisfying when only one of you can do so effectively," she said meditatively. "However, for now, we are content. The house is quite cosy- although we'll see what you think after spending a night in the rather chilly bedroom."

"Because Patty's Place is so very warm," Stella teased, before laughing. "It's a Canadian winter, Anne. I expect no less- even from a magic mushroom. And I'm not sharing that bed with Phil, by the way- I'll take your old bed." At Anne's bemused expression, Stella rolled her eyes. "I had to sleep with her when Aunt Jimsie's cousin visited us last week- Prissy was sick, and we didn't want to move her, so our visitor took Phil's room. She kicks like a small child, and talks in her sleep."

At this, Anne choked in laughter. "She does, too! I'd forgotten about that."

Not long after this, Anne caught Phil yawning expansively, and stood to usher her guests to bed. She brought out both pyjamas and blankets from the wooden chest in the bedroom for Gilbert, who snatched her close to kiss the top of her head, before sending her off to the bedroom with a cheeky tap on her backside.

* * *

Stella had already crawled into the smaller bed, telling them that no one was allowed to wake her in the morning. By the time Anne had come from the annexe in her nightgown, she was snoring blissfully under the apple-leaf quilt, leaving a wide awake Phil next to Anne.

"I've hardly even talked to you tonight, Anne," an unusually morose Phil grumbled.

"That's because you and Gilbert were in fine fettle tonight. I assumed you were well occupied. I really don't know how you get anything done together in the classroom." Anne commented, as she climbed into Gilbert's side of the bed. "Was there anything especial you needed to talk to me about? I have some free time right now."

To her surprise Phil was silent, and Anne leant over to blow out the lamp, figuring that she mustn't be ready to talk yet. The rain had settled into a steady rhythm, and she could hear Gilbert talking to Rusty out in the kitchen. She was just settling down into his pillow when Phil spoke up vehemently.

"What is it about a man's pride that can't handle being challenged?"

Anne looked over at her friend, for a moment without words. For the life of her, she couldn't imagine who Phil was describing- although only _one_ man had the ability to rattle her so.

"Phil, dear, I might need some more information-"

"You _live_ with a man. You must have observed that they occasionally become caught up in their egos."

Anne blinked in confusion. "What man are you referring to?"

Phil turned to her in some anger. "Who _else_ , Anne?"

" _Jo_?"

"Yes! _My_ Jo!"

Anne pulled herself to sit against the bed head with a confused look. "Phil, perhaps if you explain, I could help you better. Of all of the vices in the world, I wouldn't normally attach pride to Jonas Blake," she said slowly. "What on earth happened?"

Phil gritted her teeth. "My parents want to buy us a _house_."

Anne frowned. "That's- lovely. Isn't it?"

"Apparently not, from Jo's perspective. And I don't understand _why_. They wrote me last week, and I was so excited to tell him about it. And he told me that he doesn't think we should accept." She folded her arms on her knees, her brown eyes stormy.

"Did he say _why_?"

"No! He just very gently said that it wasn't a good idea- and he asked if I would be willing to wait until _he_ could provide me with a house."

Anne's heart ached for Phil's distress, and she turned to look at her friend in the dark room. "Do you think he was just surprised, Phil?"

Phil seemed to stop then, her eyes narrowing. "No. Jo considers things so carefully- he _thought_ about this." She exhaled, raising her hands in exasperation. "I don't care about the house- however, it makes sense to me that my parents would want to do this. If it stops them from worrying about me marrying a lowly minister- mother's words, not mine- then why not appease them by accepting something that would ease the financial burden from us?"

Anne sat back with raised eyebrows. " _Appeasing_ them?"

Phil rolled her eyes, slumping back on the pillow. "I have a way of handling my parents- something learned over twenty-one years. Mother and father are complete opposites and disagree on almost everything. They always have. When it comes to me, it's worse- and I usually bounce between the pair of them until they make up their mind, or I choose the lesser of two evils. Father suggested college, and mother was pressing to me to be married- so I came to college rather than get married. It was the lesser. Here, they want something together- and what would _I_ know about houses? Jo is born to be a minister, Anne- his calling is to reach out to those who can't afford to give anything back. This would allow him to do so without worrying about putting a roof over our heads. From a purely monetary position, it makes sense. Why would it be so difficult to allow them to do this?"

Anne sighed. "I don't know, Phil."

"Well, what would Gilbert do?"

His wife blinked in surprise. "I hardly think we would ever be in that position, Phil."

"Wouldn't _he_ see the common sense in this? Or would he be caught up in his male pride as well?"

"Phil, why didn't you ask him about it tonight?"

Phil's lovely face scowled. "Because he's Jo's friend, too. I'm not pulling him into this- however, I would have liked his perspective as an onlooker. No, I suppose we just need to sort this out for ourselves. After all, that's what you and Gilbert do."

Anne gave her a disbelieving look. "Phil, Gil and I have many different people speaking into our lives. You're one of them- as are the girls, Aunt Jimsie, Di, our families, even people like Miss Lavender. There isn't anything wrong with seeing other perspectives." Anne paused then, a slight smile on her face as she recalled the myriad of people offering advice over the past year. "However, in the end, it needs to be our decision alone. We are both too stubborn to allow anyone else to make it for us."

Phil sighed, looking up at the ceiling dully. "As am I, really. You _know_ how I am about making decisions- I didn't expect his mind to be made up so easily on this subject- and I couldn't bear the thought of him saying no just to protect his ego. It's so unlike him."

"Maybe that's where you need to start. If he isn't usually prideful, perhaps it isn't about that at all. You might need him to explain his reasons before you can both come to an agreement about it. And you wouldn't want him to capitulate just to make you happy, would you?"

"I suppose I am supposed to say _no_ to that," Phil said dryly. "Alright, no. I wouldn't." There was silence for a few minutes then before she blinked back a few tears. "Thank you, sweetie. I didn't want to talk to anyone at home about it. Aunt Jimsie and the girls still think that I am playing around with Jo- they would think it was me just being spoiled Phillipa Gordon again. They don't think I can be serious, even after all this time together."

Anne nudged her, a slight smile on her face. "That is only because you won't let them see the serious side of you. Maybe you should let that show a little more."

Phil chuckled. "I don't think just anyone can see it. It takes someone special."

"Like Jo."

"Just like Jo. And you." There was another short sigh, and then Phil rolled over drowsily. "I really don't know how you both do it, Anne. But you'd better let me sleep now- it really is poor form to keep your guests up talking half the night."

The pillow that hit her face seconds later made her laugh, however, Anne listened to Phil's entreaties and allowed her to drift off some minutes later, evidently more at peace. She tried to settle herself on the other side of the bed, however half an hour later after Phil's well-placed heel had bruised her kneecap, Anne climbed out of bed on silent feet to grab her dressing gown, and closed the door to the bedroom behind her softly.

* * *

Out in the dim lounge room, Anne had expected to find Gilbert asleep by now, however, he was lying back on the sofa. He didn't move immediately, and a big smile crossed his face at the sight of Anne dressed for bed. His hand was hanging down beside the chair, and Anne bit back a laugh at the sight of Rusty sitting on the rug purring, nuzzling into Gilbert's empty hand.

"I knew the two of you would eventually make friends," she teased, her voice quiet.

"I think he feels sorry for me tonight." Gilbert moved up then on the sofa, his hands reaching for hers to pull her down to him. With a sigh, she slipped down to lay beside him, and he came up on one elbow to look down at her, one red braid hanging off the edge of his makeshift bed. "You're not tired?"

Anne hummed contentedly, turning on her side to allow him to cuddle down behind her. "I might be, now," she said dreamily. "Stella is right- Phil kicks worse than Minnie May used to."

"Heaven help Jo, then," Gilbert commented wryly, suddenly feeling Anne grow still as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Anne?"

"Gil, can I ask you for your perspective on something?"

"You don't need to ask, sweetheart."

"It's not for me."

Gilbert looked intrigued, and Anne quietly told him the situation Phil had mentioned. She turned in his arms to watch him, staring over her head to the fire thoughtfully. "Phil was curious about what you would do in that situation."

"Well, she's not marrying _me_ ," he responded logically. "My opinion is irrelevant."

"And yet that is the opinion that _I_ asked you for."

Gilbert eyed her curiously and pushed back the silky curls that had escaped her nighttime braid. "Alright. If it were us- if _we_ were in that situation- then I'd probably agree with Jo."

Anne shifted until her head lay on his shoulder, her brow furrowed. "Why?"

He hesitated over his answer, his chin resting on top of her head. "Because a house would obligate him to keep their daughter wherever her parents decide she should be, rather than where Jo and Phil decide they need to be with his new parish. Jo can't work in the slums of Patterson Street if he lives in a manor house in Bolingbroke."

"And what if the house was _on_ Patterson Street?"

Gilbert chuckled. "You've met her parents, Anne, you tell me if that's likely."

Anne gazed up at him, deep in thought. "I- probably not." She huffed then, eying him mutinously. "Are you _sure_ this isn't male pride talking?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged. "For me? I don't believe so. Come on, you asked me to put us in their place. Suppose Marilla bought the Lynde's old property for us."

Anne floundered a little. "That takes quite a stretch of the imagination, Gil."

"Fine, my parents helped her. Our parents all buy us a nice house in Avonlea, and expect us to live there now that we are married."

Anne sighed. "But if we stayed there, we would lose the chance to study, and your chance to do something bigger than becoming a small town teacher."

Gilbert scooped her into his arms, his look regretful. "Look, I'm not saying that we would refuse the house outright, sweetheart. I am saying that I think that our future needs to be our own, decided by us. It shouldn't be forced onto us by a gift that may one day feel as welcome as an albatross around our necks."

"And you think Jo might feel that way?"

Gilbert shrugged, his lean face calm. "That's my guess, Anne-girl. Jo needs to be where he can help the people he is called to. And he's not just a minister, he's a man. He'll worry that he can't keep Phil in the station she was born to."

"Gil, Phil isn't worried about that!"

"And yet Jo _will_ be."

She scowled at him, albeit while she snuggled into his side. "Phil is right. Male pride is ridiculous."

"And you have none of that pride yourself," he teased her, leaning down to kiss the soft skin of her neck, smiling as she cupped his face in her hands to bring him back up to kiss her convincingly.

"You know, I really don't want to send you back to bed," he mumbled, some minutes later.

"What makes you think that I would _go_?"

Anne then made an indignant sound as Gilbert sat up, and Anne fell into the corner of the sofa unsteadily. He only grinned at her, shifting off the chair, and proceeding to pull the blankets and cushions off his makeshift bed.

"I was going to do this if I couldn't sleep in any case." Anne began to laugh at the bed he then made for them on the floor, before turning to her with a roguish look. "Your bed awaits, Mrs Blythe."

She slipped down by his side, her grey eyes on him earnestly for a moment. "The girls were a little shocked that we are sharing your bed, now."

"Shocking people appears to be what we do," he said, grinning. "Although it isn't _so_ surprising, is it?"

"Apparently for two people who haven't slept together, yes," she muttered, her cheeks scarlet.

"That's just timing, love."

Anne sighed, silent for a minute. "Don't you ever grow impatient?"

He looked at her in disbelief. "Anne, you aren't seriously asking me that, are you?"

She gave him the stubborn look that he had long loved. "You always seem so calm about everything, Gil. Four years is a very long time."

"That's just using manners!" he said crossly. "The last thing you want is to be married to someone who lets you know that he is just impatient to jump into bed, Anne." His voice lowered, and he tugged her close to him so that she rested against his firm body. "You know me better than to think that I don't want you, though. You _know_ how I want you."

Anne traced slender fingers along the buttons of his shirt, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. "You keep a distance between us in bed, Gil," she said quietly. "A distance I have noticed that you don't tend to keep anywhere else. That sofa, for instance-"

To her surprise, he laughed then, his own face heating. "You might have suspected that it would be on purpose, Anne. I hardly think mauling you in bed every night like I _want_ to do would make us any more patient for the future. I suppose I figured that at least if we weren't actually in bed-"

Anne's laugh at this was in earnest. "That is _disturbingly_ naive, dearest. How many children do you think have been conceived in places other than the bed?"

Gilbert shrugged sheepishly. "I thought it sensible." He tugged on the long braid beside him, his eyes tender. "When we do- I don't want it to be rushed- I don't want it to be because we just lost control. I want it to be in _there_ , us giving ourselves to each other, the way a proper wedding night should be. And I want to see the wedding-night nightgown."

Anne chuckled, drawing him into her arms, a slender leg slipping between his own. "It really is more of a summertime gown, Gil. It isn't terribly substantial."

"Which is the point." He sighed then, his big hands smoothing over her soft belly in adoration. He looked at her then, his eyes wistful. "Could you wait for me for another four years?"

His breath caught in his throat as Anne sat up and she moved to lay on him before the fire, now able to feel every inch of his taut body. Her eyes were a brilliant green as she bent to kiss him, his arms coming up to hold her tightly. "I will wait _any_ length of time for you, Gilbert Blythe. And you have already waited for me for so long. I am _yours_."

He pulled her down to kiss her again in the dim room, his chest ready to burst at her declaration, her soft murmur in his ear, and her body moving hauntingly against his. His eyes closed briefly as he felt her fingers working the buttons on his shirt, her sweet mouth twisted in mischief. With a little grin, he rolled her until she lay beneath him, pausing to watch the way her breath quickened in excitement. He grinned and kissed her swiftly as her fingers tangled once more in his brown curls.

"Anne-girl, you can have all the buttons you want."


	32. Chapter 32, Common Ground

**So it wasn't actually supposed to be ANOTHER month until you got this… all I can say is that life just keeps happening- as it no doubt does for everyone. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, following and reading along- thank you for your encouragement, and in some cases for checking up on me! I'm fine- err, ish. There are a few health concerning-type-things, but nothing definite- just lots of blood tests, and enough vitamins to sink a battleship. And sleeeeeeep. Why did I ever undervalue it as a child?**

 **Anyhow, as I like to let you know my plans, I am clearly moving much slower- however, you should have the next update sooner. There is still a bit left to do in this story, and as I told you, I have plans… I'm guessing perhaps ten more chapters? Many thanks especially to the wonderful writers on here- it's so wonderful doing this with you all.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 32**

October passed in a last blaze of sunshine, and in between classes and the obligatory college functions, Anne and Gilbert could usually be found in the park making the most of the warm afternoons, before ending the day together in front of the warm fireplace with their notebooks and textbooks. There were exams to be prepared for and essays that had to be submitted, and on several occasions, Anne looked across at Gilbert to find him sound asleep on the sofa, a chemistry book perched on his chest. The Cooper prize was often on Anne's mind, and she found herself studying Gilbert carefully for signs of exhaustion, a slim hand stroking his stubbly cheek as he slept. Repeatedly he had assured her that he was fine- usually with several convincing accompaniments. He was happy, he was healthy, he had _her_. All was well.

Gilbert's twenty-fifth birthday had passed amongst a whirlwind of social functions, on that particular week- culminating in a surprise birthday party at Patty's Place that night. He had smiled as he watched Anne bounce around their house in barely contained excitement that day, clearly realising that something was in the wind- however, the look of glee on his wife's face had been so adorable, that he'd let it pass without comment. Phil had insisted on baking the cake herself, and she had asserted that mathematically there was nothing wrong with it- even if she had to shave off most of the left-hand side of the cake, to make it level with the right. Patty' Place had been humming that evening with young people, and a good night was had by all- even if the guest of honour had stolen Anne away to the corner of the orchard in the moonlight, before returning to the house late with decidedly rumpled clothing and a self-satisfied expression that made Anne blush.

November saw the return of icy winds to the little harbour, and Mrs Whitley could be seen inspecting the windows of the boardinghouse and cottage for drafts, advising Anne to have their washing ready to be collected early in the mornings. Marilla and Mrs Lynde had worried about the cold weather, and insisted on making the couple a set of warm, flannel sheets for the winter. They had arrived carefully wrapped around several jars of pickles and jams (joining those Mrs Blythe had sent the previous week), and hinting at a quilt for Christmas: prompting Gilbert to comment that clearly neither woman had shared a bed with anyone for some time. Anne had laughed and rebuked him at once for his cheekiness- however she acknowledged that he had a point. The little bedroom may have been cold, but each night Anne curled herself into Gilbert's side with all the indolence of a cat, asserting that he was by far the warmest place in their snug little home.

* * *

On the fourteenth of November, as the senior English class were packing up their belongings after a long day, Anne picked up the manuscript that Professor Winston had handed her at the start of the lesson. Anne looked with some stupefaction at the mark at the top of the paper. It wasn't a class assignment- and yet he had obviously felt the need to grade it. There was a wry smile on her face too, as she traced the thoroughly crumpled pages, crossed and recrossed and with scribbled questions in the margins. He had obviously liked it enough to argue with, she thought dryly. With each draft of this story, she found her heart thumping- which would be the one she showed to Gilbert? She had talked over her notes with him, and he had read many of the other works that she had in progress, however this one was different. Remembering the bitterness she had felt regarding her hopes for Averil's Atonement, she had asked him to not read it until she had finished the final draft. Perhaps- perhaps soon.

On this day, she rose from her desk to pack her satchel and jumped when she heard herself being addressed. She turned to see Royal Gardner standing nearby, a curiously wary look on his face. She had only seen him in passing since they had returned to college that year- and in truth, he had entered her thoughts very little.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Gardner; I wasn't paying attention."

"I asked how you were finding our senior year- Mrs Blythe."

There was a pause as Anne gathered the books on her desk. "Very interesting. And yourself?"

Roy hesitated. "Interesting, as well. I found my holidays more intriguing, however."

"I see." For the life of her, Anne couldn't understand why he was making conversation, however, she had resolved to be courteous. She was an adult, for heaven's sake.

He appeared to be watching out of the windows when he spoke next, his voice low. "You might have been right about the orphanage."

Anne's chin lifted, her eyes showing hints of green in their grey depths. "Really? In what way, Mr Gardner?"

"They wouldn't let a patron visit on a non-visiting day."

Anne turned from him, her heart suddenly feeling sick. "Why should you want to visit them?"

His jaw seemed to clench, and she turned to see glittering blue eyes fixed on her own. "Perhaps you think that all benefactors have no real concern for their charges."

"They are not your charges, Mr Gardner."

"No. However, since it is my family's money supporting it, I think it prudent to know what is being done in my name."

Anne watched him, her look cool. "Mr Gardner, why talk to me about this? Furthermore, why would you think me willing to talk to _you_ about it?"

There was another pause, this time his, and Anne watched him scowl. "I am aware that you and I have not always conversed in a— helpful manner."

"No," she stated forcefully. "You have enjoyed baiting me in the past year, Mr Gardner. I am curious as to _why_. Is it women in college? _Married_ women? Or my background? Perhaps you are indignant that an orphan should be at Redmond at all."

At this Roy placed his books down on the desk, a brittle smile on his face. "And yet again, you assume that you know my motivations."

Anne closed her eyes, trying to rein in her temper. "Mr Gardner, I don't understand them at all. Moreover, I don't understand why you waste time and energy on this. What would be the point?"

"And you will not understand, until you stop casting me as the villain, Mrs Blythe," he said heatedly. "I don't believe either of our manners has been impeccable where the other is concerned. For offending you, as I have obviously done on multiple occasions, I apologise. For your offences toward me, I hold no grudge. However, I should very much like to have _one_ conversation with you without you assuming the worst of me. Will you at least allow me to do that?"

Anne's chin lifted, and she gazed at him curiously. There was a pause as she considered the oddly defiant expression in his blue eyes, and finally, she nodded. She bent to retrieve a spare piece of paper and wrote down their address before handing it to him stiffly. "Gilbert and I are at home this evening. If you would like to join us for tea, please come to our house at seven."

Roy took the paper from her, his expression odd. "Mrs Blythe, I don't believe that your husband is particularly enamoured of me. He may not appreciate me coming to his home."

Anne smiled at him calmly. "Then your conversation has quite a lot to cover tonight, Mr Gardner."

* * *

Two hours later, Anne sat patiently on the sofa watching Gilbert pace to and fro across the worn carpet, wondering idly if his raised voice had managed to penetrate the boardinghouse yet. He had yet to change from his football Jersey, and she remained quiet as he stomped around the room, thinking it better for him to get it out of his system now. The last occasion when Gilbert had been so obviously upset couldn't help but come to mind, and Anne marvelled at the difference the revelation of their love had made. Her grey eyes were inexplicably tender as she watched him, understanding anew how safe she was with him, even in his anger. So it happened, that when he, at last, dropped down beside her on the chair breathing heavily, she smiled, and leant up to kiss his flushed face.

"That won't work, you know," he growled, pausing nevertheless to capture her chin to kiss her properly.

When she emerged from his embrace, Anne's smile was smug. "Oh, I think that it might, Gil." She turned to him now, her look placating. "Darling, _do_ be reasonable-"

"How is it reasonable to invite that person into our house?" he said, incensed. "Anne, what makes you think that he's changed?"

Anne sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know. Gil, he wants to talk about the orphanage his family supports."

"Is this just a new strategy for him to get your attention, Anne?" His hazel eyes were fierce, however, Anne didn't flinch.

"I don't believe so, Gil. He hasn't approached me once this year- much to my relief," she added dryly.

"Hasn't he caused enough problems for us? And why would I ever let him attack you about your background again in our own home?"

Anne sighed, slumping against the back of the sofa. Of all the letters that had flown back and forth between herself and Gilbert over the summer, one of the more difficult to write had been the one that began to unwrap the horror that was the night of the ball. Gilbert had been so vulnerable in his own letter to her about it, and sitting by the picturesque swamp in Valley Road she had dropped her red head and cried at the insecurity she had so unknowingly fed. Gilbert had always been so confident in who he was- except when it came to her. In response, Anne had at last gone into detail about the things Roy had said to her that night, while Christine was unknowingly adding fuel to the fire on the other side of the ballroom.

In her letter, she had admitted a painful truth in herself- that the problem had begun with her unwillingness to talk to him about her own confused feelings- all of which were well in place by then. In the wake of her realisation of her own love, she now saw that had she been more open about the changes she was sensing between them, her own inability to accept the pull she felt toward her husband of six months, other opinions could not have hurt them so badly. She had written to him how sorry she was, pleading for him to understand that she hadn't known how to broach the subject with him.

In the present, Anne startled Gilbert by moving onto his lap calmly, rearranging her skirts on either side of his legs to be able to look him directly in the eye. Gilbert's consternation at her position was comical as she cupped his face in her hands.

"And before you say anything, _no_ : I am not doing this to sway you, Gil, but I need you to listen to me," Anne said firmly. "You can't do that if you are still shouting."

He shifted under her, a reluctant smile on his face. "I wasn't yelling at you, I was yelling to you."

"I know that." Anne touched his cheek lightly. "Gil, if I wasn't in the picture, what would you think of Roy?"

"Well, clearly I'd go riding off into the sunset with him."

Anne gave his arm a slap, her eyes twinkling. "That isn't what I meant, and you know it, Gil. Be honest: how much of your perception of Royal Gardner is tainted by my dealings with him?"

Gilbert sighed then, his hands on her slim waist. "That's not a fair question, Anne. Of course, I'm going to be biased against him. He's upset you multiple times. You asked me to step in last year because he was making a nuisance of himself. He attacked you about _us_. And he fed what happened on the night of the dance," he muttered. "Even if I could forgive him the rest, I wouldn't forgive that."

Anne moved to cuddle into his chest, not arguing when he turned them both to stretch out, her loose red curls spread out beside him on the old sofa. "Gilbert, you do know that the argument would have happened at some time, don't you?" There was an answering stubborn look in his hazel eyes now, and Anne sighed. "You and I needed to have that conversation- you _know_ that. If anything, we should be thankful that it happened all at once, as awful as it was. We could have walked with that kind of insecurity and fear for years." At his gruff assent, she smiled sadly. "Gil, he was baiting me because of the way I had been treating him. It was- in _part_ \- my fault." Gilbert opened his mouth to deny it, however, she shook her red head, her grey eyes fierce.

"He was tactless in his opinions on a book that spoke of an orphan- and I decided that I disliked him then and there. You of all people know how unreasonable I can be when I am angry."

He paused, his look cool. "Anne, ours was a very different circumstance."

"And yet I seem to have been nothing less than my eleven-year-old self whenever it came to dealing with him," she said tiredly. "I would never assume the whole blame, Gil; he is arrogant and entitled, and he provoked me just to get a reaction. He went out of his way to make me uncomfortable, and you as well. But I was wrong to hold onto the grudge as I did with you. I was wrong to assume that he always meant to cause trouble. I didn't give him the respect I would give to any other classmate; I was rude- and even more so when it came to him bringing up my background. In reality, it probably caught his attention the same way it does everyone," she mumbled, her brows lowered.

Gilbert sat back from her to watch her carefully. "So why the repentance now?"

"His? Or mine?"

"Let's start with you."

Anne chuckled wryly. "It's not repentance, exactly- just an uncomfortable feeling that he was right about one thing- that I never gave him a chance after he had offended me once. I should have learned how damaging that was from the first time, Gil. I was the one who punished people for not being what I wanted them to be. You were rude in the beginning, I wouldn't forgive. And yet how did you treat me? Fairly. You treated everyone that way- you were always fair, despite the fact that my behaviour to you was appalling for five years." Gilbert studied her in the lamplight, his look open. "You wouldn't have done that to anyone. And you know that I punished you by pulling away when you got too close to me- I never gave you the chance to talk to me about it. And if Roy hadn't made you feel insecure about our relationship, which was already under terrible strain from going through with a marriage of convenience, I think that you would have been fairer toward him too."

Gilbert started to speak, before lying back with a grimace on his face. "I hate that you're right."

Anne shrugged, settling against his shoulder. "Blythes are always fair, Gil. I need to live up to that too."

He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head hard. "You are, Anne-girl." He sighed then, reluctantly. "Alright, what about him? Why does he want to talk now? You didn't exactly end on a good note, last term."

Anne gave Gilbert a droll look. "Well, much like a boy I once knew who was terribly over-indulged by doting parents, he wanted attention. And when he couldn't get it by normal means, he resorted to childish attempts to provoke a reaction."

Gilbert scowled at her, before raising a hand to brush back unruly, brown curls from his forehead. "Anne, I was a thirteen-year-old boy!"

"And yet Royal Gardner is a grown man who should have left that sort of behaviour behind him a decade ago, as you did," Anne said with decision before she let out a disgusted sigh. "Of course I don't approve of that- however my words to him about his family's philanthropic projects were completely unwarranted. They came from my own experiences, and I accused his family of being wasteful, negligent and uncaring."

Gilbert pulled back, his look alarmed. "Anne-girl-"

"I know, I know," she said tiredly. "I don't blame Mr Gardner for being defensive about that- and that was when he asked me what you knew of my background. And at that point, all you knew was that I had lived in an orphanage. I hadn't told you anything about it. And he knew just by looking at me that I hadn't- I've never been good at lying. He was angry enough to turn around and poke at that sore spot, as well as unfairly bringing up the gaping holes in yours and my story."

Gilbert eyed her sternly. "Then why are we asking him to come to our house for tea? Are you planning to poison him?"

Anne rolled her eyes at his comment, before continuing reluctantly. "No. He seemed- _uneasy,_ when he spoke to me today. He told me that he tried to visit the Kingsport Children's asylum that his family supports over the summer. I- had indicated in one of our arguments about charity that patrons such as himself would never know what happens beneath the stairs," Anne said softly. "They don't. However, I didn't realise that he would be bothered by that- and he obviously believed me enough to attempt to investigate it himself." Gilbert was regretful as he watched her, and Anne sighed. "Professor Winston once told me that people like him need to know the truth- and it is only someone like me who can tell them. If there is any genuine desire to understand in him- to somehow make things better- don't I owe it to children who are like me to tell him the truth? To tell him that I was fortunate- that somehow, I was the exception to the rule. How many children are adopted out and given real families? Had I been sent to the Blewitts instead of Marilla, I wouldn't have had a chance to be where I am now," she said, her voice trembling. "Gil, imagine if that was our child- imagine _we_ had to leave a daughter, and she was to grow up as I did-"

Gilbert snatched her close to him, his voice tender as he cuddled her to himself. "Anne, stop that now- it won't ever be our children. I swear that to you." He pulled back, his eyes almost angry in their intensity. "Our children will have people everywhere who would lay down their lives to care for them properly. My parents, Marilla, Fred and Di, Phil and Jo, the girls, and even Davy and Dora, when they are old enough. They won't ever be alone, sweetheart." He saw the struggle in her grey eyes and dropped his head to her shoulder with a sigh. "Alright. You want to talk to Roy about this, fine. But if he says anything out of line-"

"Then I expect you will deliver him to our front door immediately."

"With or without his dignity?"

Anne's smile was instantly cherubic, making her husband laugh. "I suppose that depends on how he behaves."

* * *

At seven o'clock precisely a knock sounded at the door to the cottage, and Gilbert rose to open the door, grumbling as Rusty got underfoot. The relationship between the master of the house and Anne's cat was for the most part amiable now- however every now and then Gilbert could be heard muttering about having malevolent amber eyes fixed on him whenever he wanted to cuddle his wife in bed. Anne was presently at the counter preparing the tea tray, and couldn't hold back a chuckle at the way he prowled around Gilbert's feet now- nor the look of forced pleasantry on Gilbert's face as he opened the door to greet Mr Royal Gardner.

He was ushered in with all due ceremony, and Gilbert was wickedly pleased to observe that their guest looked at least as uncomfortable as he felt. Anne herself was calm as she turned from the table to greet him, and a fierce thud of pride went through Gilbert's chest at her stately manner, the queenly look on her face that he adored. Roy shook her hand courteously, as he would any classmate, and with a careful eye on Gilbert, he presented Anne with a small box of tea that his sister was said to prefer, exquisitely wrapped as a gift to the hostess.

The tension was becoming unbearable by this point, and behind Roy's back, Anne shot Gilbert a glance of desperation as she brought her lemon tarts to the table, begging him to talk. Gilbert was beginning to find some amusement in the situation, however, he turned to Roy politely and began to ask him about himself.

After some rather uphill work, the conversation gradually began to ease and Gilbert found himself studying Roy over the tea table. There were small flashes of humour in him, and an intelligent enough mind- and during a surprisingly polite difference of opinion about a text between the two English students Gilbert sat back, his arms folded. Roy looked up to meet curious hazel eyes and stiffened.

"Mr Gardner, as pleasant as this is, why did you wish to talk with us?"

Roy's look was reserved. "Mr and Mrs Blythe, I would very much appreciate it if you would drop the necessary formality away from the college."

Gilbert met Anne's startled look. "I apologise. I assumed that you would prefer it."

"Mr Gardner was my father. I would prefer to be known as myself, whilst I am still at college."

Anne gave a sigh that only Gilbert heard, and she turned to face him. "Very well then, Roy. What is it you wished to discuss with me?"

He crossed a long leg over his other, his brow lowered. "You- have a unique perspective on a conundrum I am facing." At Anne's raised eyebrow, he elaborated, trying to ignore the way that Gilbert's eyes followed his every move. "My father died three years ago, when I was in my junior year of college. I took my mother and sisters overseas for two of those, in hopes that the climate would assist my mother and elder sister in their recovery. They were particularly close to him. Needless to say, my degree had to be postponed until we returned from abroad."

Gilbert's heart clenched suddenly, not needing the reminder that he could understand Roy's plight. "Yes. You told us that on the night we met, I believe."

Roy nodded. "Yes. Naturally, I am the successor to my father's business and estates. A board was to care for things until I graduated- however it became necessary for me to step in somewhat earlier. With a mother and two sisters to care for, now, I can hardly neglect my responsibilities for another year."

Anne's face was a study as she listened. "That must be difficult around your classes."

"Yes. And— perhaps over the past year I have allowed my private life to- I may not have been in the best frame of mind to make better acquaintances with people."

Anne held Gilbert's eyes for a moment, before turning to look at Roy directly. "I do sympathise with your difficulties. However, it was not only you who had a difficult year, last year. You seem to have gone out of your way to provoke me- drawing unwanted attention to both you and to us. Frankly, that was the last thing that Gilbert and I wanted. What were you hoping to gain by it?"

Gilbert hid a small smile at the startled look on Roy's face, was obviously unused to being addressed so bluntly, and he floundered for a moment.

"I did not mean to cause you any problems, Anne."

"That doesn't mean that you didn't." She looked across at their guest, her voice quiet. "I _am_ sorry that I behaved rudely to you in response. That was inappropriate."

Roy shifted on the seat, a slight scowl on his face. "If my attentions were unwelcome, however innocently they were meant, then it was perhaps understandable."

By this point, Anne was becoming unnerved by the direction the conversation was going, and she was aware of Gilbert's leg beginning to move beside her restlessly. "Roy, I am sure that this is not what you came here to discuss. What is your conundrum?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I- I- was getting to that. At the same time we were reading Neil Cross' controversial book last year, I was reviewing the charities of which my father sat on the board. That included the Kingsport Asylum." Gilbert's hand slipped down to Anne's surreptitiously, as he felt her body tense beside him. "Our er- discussion about the book surprised me- I had no idea that you would feel as strongly as you did, or I should have said nothing before you. Obviously, I did not understand the reason for your distress."

Anne's eyes glittered, and she kept her voice steady. "The mention of the orphanage is not what distressed me, Roy. I am quite well aware that it is a part of my story. I have never shied away from telling others that I was adopted."

There was a curious glance toward Gilbert then, and he shrugged easily. "Roy, Anne and I have known each other since we were children. Of course, I knew."

"And not only have we known each other since we were young, but we have also been close friends for the past five years. However, I do not- I _have_ not readily talked about that time," Anne said carefully. "I was one of the fortunate ones, Roy. Many children are unwanted and taught that they are so from a young age. They have no opportunities, and many of them leave the orphanage as fourteen-year-olds, with nowhere else to go- only to find themselves in situations they are not adequately prepared for."

Roy gave her a piercing look. "That isn't what the staff have indicated. Am I to believe that this is not so?"

Anne's cheek twitched, and she endeavoured to remain calm. "I don't know. However, I would guess that a patron is only told of the success stories- those who run the centres are naturally enough trying to protect their jobs. When a young, appealing child is found a family, it would appear to be a success. However, many children will never be chosen- many more will be adopted in name, and then put to work as a servant."

Roy frowned. "Anne, I would never mean any disrespect to you, or your experiences- however being a respectable servant is nothing to be ashamed of. There are staff who have worked for my family since my sisters and I were children- I would trust them with my life."

Anne's glance at Gilbert was regretful. "Such a position would not be available to the young men and women leaving an orphanage for the first time."

Roy sat back, his demeanour obviously unsettled. "And yet the children are educated at the orphanage, are they not? Does not this allow for them to rise to higher positions, if they have the ambition? Clearly, you are a shining example of that."

Gilbert could feel Anne's hand shaking in his own, and gave it a squeeze, his tension growing just as hers did. Why he hadn't thrown the fellow out already, he didn't know- however, Anne's words rang in his mind then, reminding him that someone needed to speak up for those who had been like his darling girl. His heart squeezed as he felt her trying to remain calm.

"Roy, I was fortunate. I found myself with a family who showed me compassion and kindness. My guardians were not expecting a girl- the orphanage made a mistake- however, they were good-hearted people, who chose to not see me as a servant, but as a child who needed them. I helped out with chores, yes, however, I was sent to school as soon as the term began. I was given every opportunity to learn- I was given the tools necessary to do that. My- Marilla believed a girl should be able to make her own way in the world if necessary, and she allowed me to join a class to prepare me for the Queen's teaching academy at the same time as Gilbert. I was given every chance to succeed in that house, and the love and support necessary to do it. You mustn't assume that all children are awarded the same opportunities."

Roy was silent for some minutes after this, adjusting his long frame on the chair. "What do they need, then?"

Anne pulled away from Gilbert, her fierce eyes fixed on Roy. "They need love, first and foremost. They need to be cared for by people who tell them that they are worth something. They need education by people who will not hold their status against them. They need to be protected from those who would bully or misuse them- and adopting families need to be scrutinized more carefully, to ensure that they are not going to be worked to death, or be sent into homes where there is domestic violence. I spent ten years with families like that, Roy. And I still maintain that the orphanage was the most damaging by far."

Gilbert's warm hand was on her back as she calmed down, and eventually, she settled back in her chair with a quick glance at her husband. He gave her a slight nod. The look on Roy's face was far more stricken, and he swallowed.

"Anne that is more change than any one person can do in a lifetime. There are limits to what a board can do-"

"Change will take time, I understand that. But putting people in place whose concern is first and foremost the children is the place to start." Anne sat back on the sofa, her look stormy. "We need laws to protect children. We need orphanages to change the way they relate to their charges."

Roy was silent for some minutes, and there was a look of exhaustion on his face. "Is the whole system pointless, then?"

Gilbert cleared his throat then. "Of course not. They at least have a roof over their head, and they are fed and clothed- however inadequate it may seem compared to what a normal child might have."

Roy's startled look swung to Anne. "There isn't enough food?"

Anne's voice was neutral. "Not always, no. Resources are limited. Orphanages rely on donations, and on businesses to sell them the products that aren't wanted by the general public."

Roy was visibly affected, and he shot her a sharp look. "And you know this how?

There was a pause, and to his surprise, she smiled. "What do you think the older orphans do, Roy?"

This thought had obviously never crossed his mind before, and Anne watched him frown. "I'm- I'm sure I don't know."

"We care for the younger children, assist with the chores- and any number of errands in the cities. I was occasionally sent to the grocers over the winter."

Gilbert's jaw tensed as he glanced at her. "By yourself? You were only ten."

Momentarily forgetting Roy's presence, Anne smiled at her husband reassuringly. "And _you_ escorted your father to Alberta alone at ten, Gilbert. I wasn't the only one forced to grow up too soon."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and when Anne turned back to Roy, she caught the hopeless look on his face. "I know that this is very overwhelming. To be fair, many men in your position would not bother to look into the workings of these places."

"Then I do not wish to be those men," he muttered, his look dark. Anne's met Gilbert's eyes in confusion when suddenly the look was masked again, and Roy folded his arms despondently. "I don't imagine there is anything much I can do until I finish college."

"What if you could help just _one_ person, right now?" Roy turned to Gilbert, his look startled. "I tutor several students in the sciences on Wednesday nights."

"And I do not take science."

"No. You are, however, a tolerable English student."

Anne hid a smile at the look of indignation on Roy's face, and she elbowed Gilbert in the side. "Gilbert is teasing, Roy. He knows that you are one of Professor Winston's best students."

Roy glared at Gilbert, who merely grinned. "I may not be in your celebrated wife's league, Blythe, however, I believe you will find me more than capable of assisting your students."

"Excellent. I have a first-year for you: smart as a whip, however, his schooling was broken up with his mother's long illness."

Roy shot him a sharp look. "Are you trying to play to my sympathies?"

Gilbert shrugged. "He already has mine. I missed three years of school with my father's tuberculosis. I spent those years in Alberta with no schooling but what I could supply for myself. However, for the most part, I had good teachers who helped me to catch up when I got back. Jerry Rylan appears to have somewhat blundered his way through- and his essays are woeful. I don't have the time that he would need from me to help him. I was going to ask Anne if she could."

"Is this a test?"

The teasing look at once left Gilbert's face, and he met the other man's glittering eyes unflinchingly. "No. However, you said yourself that you can't help those at the orphanage yet. Help someone else until you can."

Anne held her breath, as she watched the struggle in his blue eyes. "What- time do you need me?"

There was a relieved look on Gilbert's face, then. "Seven o'clock, here. The students arrive then."

Roy sat up and looked at Anne, his look faintly horrified. "You have them all in your home?"

"Where else should I put them?" Gilbert asked mildly. "Everyone fits in quite well. Anne escapes to the big house for the evening with her own work, and the young men have been very well behaved. I shouldn't have them in our home, otherwise."

Roy frowned slightly. "I can't imagine my mother would welcome a group of students into her home."

Anne gave Gilbert an amused look. "Gilbert and I are teachers, Roy. Students are nothing new to us."

Roy nodded then, his own expression cool. "And I can assure you that tutors are nothing new to me. I will be here next week."

* * *

When the door closed behind Roy that night, Gilbert crossed back to Anne where she sat on the sofa, exhausted. He scooped her up in his arms and took her seat as she cuddled into his arms. Gone was the formidable opponent now, and he rocked her in his arms slightly, unsurprised to feel the odd tear seeping through his shirt. She was silent for some time, and he waited for her to be ready to speak.

"He said that he couldn't help them."

Gilbert brushed the hair back from her face, his look sober. "No, he said he couldn't see how to help them _yet_. That's a different thing, Anne-girl."

There was another silence before he lifted her head from his shoulder. "Were you really going to ask me to help Jerry?"

He grinned. "Yes. I'm almost tearing my hair out over his grammar. He can pass any mathematics exam with ease- but words are a whole other problem for him."

At this point, Rusty, who had been scowling in the darkest corner of the kitchen leapt onto the back of the sofa behind them, his tail lashing against Gilbert's cheek, who spluttered in indignation.

"Here now; what did I ever do to you?" he asked, injured.

Anne turned on his lap to rest against his broad chest, reaching a slender hand out to her cat with a smile. "You let a stranger into the house, Gil. You know how territorial he is. Perhaps he thinks that he should have been a watchdog."

Gilbert snorted, however the warmth was relaxing, and after a few minutes he spoke again. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to see what kind of tutor Mr Gardner makes. I will admit that he is not _completely_ evil."

Anne chuckled. "That's a very fine concession, Gil."

"Well, it's the only one I'm giving him. Are you alright?"

Anne nodded, sighing tiredly. "Mmm. Are you coming to bed, now?"

"Just let me clear up here, and I'll be in soon."

He smiled as she moved toward the bedroom, and a minute later he heard a light thump and chuckled. Anne would have thrown herself onto their bed without undressing, and would most likely still be dressed by the time he made it to the bedroom. Gilbert moved around the kitchen now slowly, rinsing plates under the pump, and setting the kettle on to boil.

If he hadn't known ahead of time what the conversation might entail, he would have been surprised by Anne's lethargy- a word he rarely associated with her. The emotional toll of the evening could not be ignored though, and again he wondered uneasily if it had been wise of them to indulge Roy's desire for information. Would it make any difference?

Nevertheless, Anne had been willing to try. All he could do was to support her when she did.

Twenty minutes later he entered the bedroom to find the lamp already out, and to his surprise Anne was lying on her pillows, watching him quietly. He leant over to kiss her forehead, taking his pyjamas from the hook and heading into the annexe to change. There was a slight smile on his face now as he placed his clothing down, a sigh escaping as he undid his shirt. Undressing before each other was still something the two of them had been shy about- perhaps unconsciously it was something they were saving, he supposed. His head dropped to the door frame with a wry chuckle, then. That didn't stop all manner of wandering hands, of course. It was really just as well that they were as busy as they were- or there would be far too much time on his hands to meditate on the amount of time that had to pass before they could actually- no, better to not continue that thought at the moment.

When Gilbert climbed into bed a few minutes later, he took Anne's hand in his, bringing it up to watch the gleam of her wedding ring in the faint light from the window. He turned to look at her then, his eyes watchful.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She seemed to rouse herself then and turned to rest her red head against his shoulder. "No. I'm fine, Gil." She tipped her head up to meet his eyes then, her look clear. "I'm glad we met with him. And it may be that things will change in time for those children."

Gilbert adjusted himself so that she could curl into his side as she was accustomed to doing, her warm hand slipping through the open collar of his shirt. "Maybe they will." He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he felt her begin to relax.

"Gilbert?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you ever think about whether our first baby will be a boy or a girl?"

He chuckled, stilling the hand that was lazily tracing the lines of his chest. "Anne, love?"

"Yes?"

"Unless you want to start making those babies right now, you really need to stop talking about them when we're lying here like this."

She smiled, yawning as her arm wrapped around his waist. "I can't wait," she whispered sleepily.

Gilbert turned to press a kiss to the top of her head, an oddly pensive look on his face as he listened to her breathing steady. When he was sure that she was asleep some minutes later, he sighed as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Neither can I, sweetheart."


	33. Chapter 33, 364 days

**Chapter 33**

On a cold, late November day, Anne took her seat in the grandstands with Phil, watching the Redmond football team huddled around at the entrance to the tents. Gilbert's dark head was amongst them, and she repressed a little shiver as she looked at the bleak skies. Phil couldn't help but laugh as she noticed Anne's appearance.

"Honey, those colours do absolutely _nothing_ for you."

Anne tightened Gilbert's scarlet and white scarf around her throat with a droll smile and a roll of her grey eyes. "Oh, I lost a game of checkers to Gil the other night. As a result, I had to wear Redmond's colours today, bright and bold in the stands."

Phil pretended to swoon dramatically. "Anne, the horror! What would he have done if you had won?"

Anne gave her a wicked grin. "Then Gilbert would have had to wear a bonnet to Mrs Whitley's house for tea- he only agreed to my terms because he was so sure that he was going to win. Which, I suppose, he _did_ ," she said philosophically.

"Betting on the outcome of a game! Not to mention accosting innocent young men in medical tents. Anne Shirley, I feel as if I hardly know you, anymore."

Anne swatted her playfully, her eyes twinkling. "Blythe, Phil. And unlike you, I don't need to live up to the idea of being a proper Bluenose."

Phil laughed. "Well, next year I will take up residence in Patterson Street with my beloved- and so I rather think my Bluenose days are over as well. Not that I mind in the slightest."

Anne gave her a curious look, as Phil's brown curls blew about in the breeze. "And how are your parents taking it?"

Phil shrugged, a slight scowl on her face. "Oh, Father is alright- it's Mother who is still rampaging; or at least, she was when we went to see them at Thanksgiving. She wants us to live near them- and we really _can't_ , Anne. Jo has his appointment in Kingsport- and he was offered the Patterson Street Manse. It's too good an opportunity to miss."

Anne looked down to see Gilbert conferring with the football coach, and turned back to her friend curiously. "And what of the house?" she asked. "I thought your parents wanted to give you one as a wedding present."

Phil scrunched up her nose in distaste. "It comes with certain conditions. We _have_ a house- if we choose to live in Bolingbroke."

Anne's face fell. "Oh, Phil."

"Which means that Jo was right to want to refuse their oh-so-generous offer," Phil said glumly. "No doubt he suspected that there might be strings attached. We had a terrible fight-"

"You and Jo?"

Phil gave a brittle smile. "No. Mother and I. She is insisting that Jo to ask the church board to relocate him- and she doesn't understand why he won't. She is being thoroughly unreasonable about everything- even Father hasn't been able to talk her around, yet. Jo is terribly upset. He believes that he caused it. And he didn't- Mother and I have never seen eye to eye, really."

Anne bumped her shoulder affectionately. "I'm so sorry, Phil."

"I'm not." She gave the crooked smile she was known for, her brown eyes thoughtful. "I came to college to escape her plans for me, remember? Although I shouldn't really talk so about her, I suppose. Mother always comes around, eventually. She was apparently even heard to be bragging about her almost BA daughter at her Garden Club, a few months ago- not that she has ever said so to _me_."

With a sudden roar of the crowd, Anne turned her head to scan the field quickly, to see Gilbert safe and sound, being slapped on the back by Timothy as they jogged forward. She smiled, well able to imagine the handsome grin on his face. Phil nudged her, then.

"I can't believe the two of you are about to celebrate your first wedding anniversary. Do you have any plans?"

Anne shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "We have some, yes. Starting today."

"Why today? It's just a football ga- _oh_ ," Phil snorted with laughter, then. "I see. Recreating the event, are we? And are you planning to surprise him in the medical tent again?"

Anne placed her hand on her heart, her grey eyes wide. "Certainly _not_ , Phil. There are rules against that, you know."

Phil laughed and then turned to stare at Anne. "I've always wondered, you know- when I left you that night, you were so sure that you were going to leave. The next thing I knew, it was morning and Prissy was yelling that I had to come downstairs to the window just in time to see Gilbert going down on one knee on our veranda, with the biggest smile I've ever seen on his face. What did chang your mind overnight?"

Anne was silent for a short time, a small smile on her face. "It's simple, really. I imagined a world without Gilbert in it. That convinced me. And it has all turned out rather well, I think."

"As we all knew it would. I envy you, you know," Phil said candidly. "The teeniest, prettiest wedding in all history- no fuss, no demands-"

"Did you forget the faculty _demanding_ that we become husband and wife?"

"Oh, please; the two of you were always meant to be. All I am saying is that if falling on top of a fellow gets you married to the man you love in such a fashion, then count me in. The results appear to be spectacular."

Anne couldn't help but laugh then, and for the rest of the game, the pair chattered through the whoops and hollers of the crowd around them. Anne kept one eye on Gilbert, who appeared to be having a fine time on the field, despite the mud plastered to his uniform. She was relieved to see that the young Colossus who had trampled him was nowhere in evidence this year. Perhaps it was even a different school playing- if she tried to think back, she wasn't exactly sure who she had been watching, last year. She had only noticed Gilbert.

Phil was able to catch Anne up with all of the goings on of the Patty's Place household, which had of course been quite busy over the past few months, and she squealed at the news of successes that Anne was beginning to be met with in her writing. Almost before they realised, the game was over- and Anne turned to see Gilbert himself jogging up the stairs in his uniform, cheerful and covered with mud.

He bent down to give Anne a long smooching kiss, ignoring the sound of disgust coming from Phil at the state of his clothing. "Honestly, Gilbert; did you have to roll in every mud puddle down there?"

He grinned at her, pausing to shake some mud off his shoes, thankfully away from the girls. "Not _every_ one. But I did my best. Now, doesn't my girl look lovely in bright red?" he asked smugly, his hazel eyes twinkling.

Phil rolled her eyes as Anne scowled at her husband. "If you wanted her to look like a striped candy, then yes. Personally, I should have preferred to see you in the bonnet again. Now, cross-dressing aside, my darlings, I must be off- Jo is taking me to his family's home for dinner tonight. He's picking me up from the courtyard shortly."

Anne chuckled, then. "Well, I hope the two of you have a lovely time tonight."

"I shall. And I will leave you to the first of your anniversaries, you shameless pair," she threw over her shoulder with a grin. "Try not to do anything too scandalous this year."

* * *

Gilbert had been the one to declare an anniversary of the single week that they had been engaged- one that encompassed the accident, their betrothal and wedding all in one. Around their classes and exams they spent time wandering through the park, now swept bare of leaves, and mostly empty- only the most devoted of walkers would consider being outside in the cool wind coming off the harbour. Gilbert followed behind Anne with a huge smile those afternoons, watching as she danced through the pathways of St Johns looking for winter-blooming flowers, sitting with her in the pavilion to watch the sunset, and chasing after her past the old tower on their way home from the college, her bright laughter echoing through the bare trees.

On the day before their actual anniversary, Anne and Gilbert were invited to Patty's Place to celebrate with Aunt Jimsie and the girls. Jo and Moody were naturally there, and Charlie had promised to stop by later in the evening- that was if he could convince his young lady to forgo the end of the concert that they were engaged to attend. Gilbert had tried to tell him that they would understand if he could not get away, however, a solemn Charlie had assured him in turn that he regarded it as a duty to be in attendance- especially as he was so unfortunate to not be present for his _best_ friend's wedding. This was said in a sorrowful tone, letting Gilbert know that he was forgiven for that oversight only under protest.

Gilbert looked around at the group assembled in the living room that night with a curious smile on his face. He'd wondered when they first began college if the Islanders would somehow drift apart from each other. It had happened some, he supposed- he had the football team, Moody had his acquaintances in the junior year, and Charlie- well, Charlie ran the student body, apparently. The girls had been inseparable since their Queens days- and living together had only drawn them closer. It was Anne, he supposed, drawing a circle of kindred spirits around herself. He smiled to see his wife following behind Aunt Jimsie to carry platters of food to the table, her creamy skirt swishing as she moved through the old doorway. She was lovely tonight, he thought dreamily, her red-gold curls twisted into a low knot at the nape of her neck- the neck that had distracted him enough to make them almost late that evening, despite Anne's giggled protest that they really didn't have the time for that.

There was much laughter and teasing as the group celebrated together now, and as Anne sat on the edge of Gilbert's armchair after dinner with his arm wrapped around her snugly, she sighed in contentment, prompting her husband to nudge her.

"Tired?"

Anne shook her head. "Just happy." She looked around at the girls thoughtfully. Stella had seated herself on her Aunt's right-hand side, teasing Prissy who had a lapful of cats before the fire. Jo and Moody were discussing something or other- the doctrine of transubstantiation if she was hearing correctly, while Phil and Aunt Jimsie talked about the Christmas holidays to come. Charlie and his Madeline had arrived soon after dinner, solemnly congratulating the pair on their anniversary as they took the sofa beside Moody. Madeline was rather shy and slightly overwhelmed by the camaraderie and vivaciousness of the senior girls, and was content to sit by Charlie as he inserted himself into a conversation with the other menfolk.

While Anne watched the group talk together, she turned to Gilbert lovingly and stroked the splendid chin she had often admired. "You told me that this would be a good year," she murmured, watching the way the firelight flickered in his eyes.

"When did I say that?"

She touched her forehead to his and smiled. "Oh, I was worried about what the year would bring last New Years' Eve- and you reminded me that everything would be fine, as long as we were together. You were right."

Gilbert nodded. "Hard, at times," he added quietly, "But still the best year of my life."

Forgetting the rest of the room, Anne moved to nestle against his cheek, her contented sigh tickling his skin. "Mine too."

"Oh, now look here, you two," Stella interrupted, her voice cross. "You promised us no doe-eyes over the dinner table."

Gilbert grinned fiendishly, his eyes not leaving Anne's sparkling grey ones. "Well, we're not over the dinner table anymore, are we, sweetness?"

The chorus of groans that met this overly sappy comment made Anne chuckle, however, she didn't resist when Priscilla tugged her down onto the floor with her, poking her tongue out impudently at Gilbert. Phil insisted on separating the couple for the game she had organised, and Gilbert, Jo, Moody and Charlie were placed on a team against the five girls- something that they protested was blatantly unfair. The girls had their own ways of communicating, that the menfolk could only dream about keeping up with- however, Anne only winked at her husband as she settled in to play.

As the evening drew to a close, Aunt Jimsie commented placidly that she supposed everyone still had some room for cake; and brought out one that mirrored Anne and Gilbert's wedding cake from the previous year, complete with the little sugar flowers she had insisted on. Anne rose from her seat to embrace the older woman, knowing the love that had gone into the gift. There was a chorus of oohs and aaahhs, and no one was surprised when Phil rose from her seat, tapping her mug with a silver spoon, her brown eyes merry as she turned to the couple.

"Anne, honey, of all of our escapades as co-eds, I'm certain that getting you married with a week's notice will always be one of the craziest that we reminisce over as elderly women," she stated. "As such your wedding anniversary will always belong to us a little bit- and we are honoured to have been the sole witnesses at this historic event." There was a small harrumph from Charlie's end of the couch, however, Phil roundly ignored him. "Now, we swore that we would leave you alone tomorrow evening to celebrate in your own island-ish ways-"

" _Hey_ ," Prissy spluttered indignantly.

"Probably something uncivilized, such as swimming the channel, or climbing trees in the park, if I know you both-" Gilbert caught Anne's grey eyes, laughing at the raised eyebrow she gave him. "However, we want you to know that we couldn't be happier for the way that this has turned out for you both. And I hope that the college has learned its lesson- pity the institution who tries to stop the pair of you from doing something that you've made up your minds to do. And I very much look forward to seeing what comes of the end of our senior year," she said cheekily, making Anne laugh. She knew the dreams Phil had for them both then- of a little home somewhere in the vicinity of Patterson Street. She smiled then to see Phil raising her mug of tea towards them both, her brown eyes suddenly serious.

"To some of my favourite people in the world- may the next year be crowned with blessing and happiness for you both."

* * *

When the moon was high in the sky, and the night had been declared a success, the Blythes left Patty's Place to walk home, with Moody striding ahead beside Charlie and his Madeline. Anne and Gilbert wandered along behind the others, enjoying the starlight and the fresh breeze blowing around them. Winter would set in soon, Anne thought, with a little shiver, one that caused him to automatically draw her closer. Her gloved hand was tucked into Gilbert's, and she found herself watching him now as they walked, the strong set of his shoulders, the keen, clear eyes that roamed over the landscape.

Charlie was the first to leave to escort his Madeline home, and Moody farewelled the pair soon after, as he left them at the ivy-covered pathway to the Mushroom. A minute later, at their doorway, a contented Gilbert reached into his pocket for the key, only to be stopped by Anne's hand on his arm. He looked up with a slight smile, to see her big eyes on his, full of unexpected emotion.

"Anne? What is it?"

Anne shook her head, coming close to slip her arms around his waist, her face buried in the lapels of the old grey coat he wore. Abandoning the key, Gilbert wrapped her in his arms and bent to kiss the top of her head.

"I wouldn't have thought a night of celebration would end like this, love," he teased lightly, slightly concerned about the look of turmoil in her grey eyes.

Anne looked up at him, before pulling back to touch his cheek with her gloved hand. "I could have lost you, Gil."

He blinked at her then, not understanding. "But you didn't."

Anne gave him a pained glance. "A year ago, I was preparing to walk away from Redmond, Gil. From you."

He was still for a moment and reached across to tug the glove from her left hand. He grasped her ring finger then, shaking it slightly with an amused look on his face. "You do remember our first year of marriage, don't you, sweetheart? I'm fairly sure you were there for it."

Her hands came up to cup his cheeks then, and he was startled to see a tear fall on her own as she spoke softly. "I would have missed _all_ of this. I wouldn't have known what we were meant to be- I could have _lost_ you."

She didn't wait for him to answer her, with her hands on his face, and her lips seeking his own with a fierceness that showed how deeply her emotions ran. He caught her up in his arms, willing to go wherever she led- and he sighed as her fingers slipped into his hair, knocking his hat onto the steps, reminding the pair of the chill outside. He groaned as she pressed him against their front door, his hands leaving her slender form only to fumble for the keys- however, Anne's deft fingers found them without once moving her lips from his- and Gilbert couldn't help but laugh as she unlocked the door quickly, sending them stumbling through the doorway. For a brief moment, he pulled away to retrieve his hat, however it was quickly tossed aside when Anne launched herself at him again, giggling as he disposed of their coats and scarves in short order. Once free of her own, she stretched slender arms around his neck again, her body pressed tightly against his, her big eyes fixed on him.

There was a moment when all laughter fell away, hazel eyes becoming lost in green as the same _want_ reflected in both. Gilbert bent his head to kiss her deeply, his eyes sliding shut as her tongue gently stroked against his, still faintly in disbelief that she was _his_ now. Somehow the door was shut behind them- somehow the keys were thrown on the kitchen bench; the bench that now Anne found herself pushed up against, his firm torso holding her firmly in place, as he raked his hands through her hair, sending little shivers up her spine. Hands that suddenly shook were loosening his tie, and she caught her breath as he lifted her in his arms, setting her down on the counter before him, his breath hot against her mouth as strong arms crushed her close. Some dam seemed to have broken in Gilbert- and Anne closed her eyes in ecstasy at the kisses that scraped against her jaw and her throat, as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist; quaking at the firmness she found there, the tight way he held her.

Another passionate kiss that caused Anne to knock her head against the kitchen shelf, and Gilbert apologised profusely- at least, Anne assumed that was what he was doing; it was rather hard to tell, with his head buried as it was in her collar- and he picked up his laughing wife, stumbling with her over to the well-used sofa, infinitely more comfortable than the bench had been.

He dropped her without ceremony on the cushions, grinning at the way her hair fell over her face- before tenderly pushing it back behind one ear. There was a little sigh then, a wistful look that Anne almost missed, and he smiled as he turned resolutely away from the bedroom door.

"You know, if I was a betting man, I would have been confident that tomorrow would cause the bigger temptation," he muttered, rubbing his face with a sheepish grin.

"You have a timetable for this?" Anne teased breathlessly.

"No, I- I just-"

Anne again took his face in her hands, almost making him stumble at the clear love he felt radiating from her. "It doesn't take an anniversary for me to want you," she whispered. "I know that we can't- I know that it isn't time- but right at this minute, all I want-"

He wrapped his arms around her again, breathing heavily. "I know, love. I- I don't know how else to do this," he said, his voice breaking. "It's my fault, if I wasn't-"

At this she sat up, her eyes glittering at her husband angrily. " _No_. You are _not_ doing this, Gil. There is no regret here, and you know that. This is _right_ between us."

"You don't think I know that? That's what makes this all so maddening," he said between gritted teeth. "I don't know how we planned to make it through the next three years, if we can't even do three months."

Anne paused and pulled him down to her, with a suddenly shy smile on her lips. Her slim legs were still firmly wrapped around his hips, and she couldn't help blushing as she placed her hands on his chest, swallowing hard at the intimacy of the position. The passion between them was electrifying, and for a brief moment, she chuckled at how her younger self would have been terrified out of her wits at this juncture- one she positively revelled in now. "We'll do it the only way we can, Gil. Together."

"We already do everything together."

She lifted a shaking hand to his cheek, smiling as he turned his face into her palm. Summer had changed everything between them- the long weeks away from each other, the letters that had opened their hearts in a way that merely living together had not done. Anne sighed as he pulled her closer into his arms, resting his brown head against her chest. She knew him, in all ways but one- he would never ask for more than she was willing to give, and he would not jeopardize their future, however painful it might be.

"Not _everything_ ," she murmured, her cheeks scarlet. The room was lit only by the glowing coals in the fireplace, but even in that light, she could see the change that came over Gilbert's face, the way he seemed to want to pull away from her in embarrassment. She held him still, her hands soft on his face. "What if there were some more- some things that we did _together_?"

Gilbert seemed to flinch at this, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Sweetheart-"

"And I know that it's a little different physically for you than it is for me-"

He made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, and straightened up, shifting her until she was sitting on his lap, her red head resting on his shoulder. "I- er- good heavens, Anne, I'm so sorry. thought I'd done better in hiding it."

She looked up then, a quirked smile on her face. "Dearest, I'm not as naive as you might _think_ I am. Although I was hardly going to mention it to you." He lay his head back on the sofa with a groan, prompting her to turn to him, drawing his eyes back to her. "I- I always hoped that one day someone would feel that way- about me," she said softly. "I didn't expect it, and you know that I wasn't ready for it at the beginning of us." she sighed, her eyes troubled. "Without meaning to, I led you on a merry chase."

This made him chuckle, and he smiled at her broadly. "Worth it."

"You were nothing but patient with me, Gil- you didn't pressure, or make me feel guilty- you were every bit the gentleman that I had known before we married."

"My mother will be so very thrilled to hear that."

Anne swatted his shoulder with a scowl, and he shielded himself from her attack, laughingly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Continue."

"I- it's just that I know that this costs you," she said, her blush feeling as if it covered her from head to foot, as she watched him adjust his collar uncomfortably. "It costs _both_ of us."

Gilbert sighed, and a wry smile on his face. "Love, I'm obscenely lucky to be living with you now, and not saying goodnight to you on the doorstep of Patty's Place. You share my name. You share my _bed_. I'm- I'm grateful. I know that- parts of me might seem impatient- but I can wait. I promise you that."

Anne curled her shoulders into him as he held her close, and she traced the line of his shirt buttons absently. "I know. And yet I'm wondering just how much harder it will get, as time goes on."

Gilbert gave slight choke at her innocent remark and contented himself with a slight grin into her hair. "More difficult, perhaps, yes. That doesn't mean we need to change anything."

Well aware that this was the first time they had come close to discussing this topic, Anne's grey eyes were hesitant. "Perhaps it _should_ change."

He froze, watching her curiously. "Anne?"

"Oh, not everything," she said, with a nervous chuckle. "You will still become Doctor Blythe if I have anything to say about it." She didn't see the slightly odd look on his face, so anxious was she to correct his impression. "I- I only meant that not doing _anything_ seems a trifle- unnecessary, don't you think?"

"Er- Anne, I'm not really reading between the lines very well-"

"What do you _think_ I am talking about?" she said, in some exasperation.

He shook his head with a slight smile. "Well, I'm seeing the same problem you are, sweetheart- but we don't want to get carried away, and miss out on what will actually be our wedding night. You deserve better than that."

She sighed and chuckled then, her eyes twinkling. "There will still be a wedding night, you goose- even if I need to sun-bleach that lovely nightgown every year until it's time to use it." She smoothed her hands over his shirtfront, briefly admiring the muscles underneath her fingertips as she tried to gather her courage. "I'm sure you that would know better than I that there are more ways to be intimate than- than-"

"Hang on, _why_ should I know better?"

Anne huffed impatiently from his lap. "Gilbert, I _raised_ young boys; I went to school with boys, and I taught boys in my class- not to mention, that I have been present for some startling conversations between your teammates. I do have some idea how the average male talks."

His sheepish smile seemed to confirm her suspicion, and Anne continued, allowing her hair to sweep over her pink face. "Not that girls are always much better, I grant you. I- I want to be with you, Gil. And it isn't that I want to remove anything from what will one day be our wedding night-"

He shushed her then, a huge smile on his face, as he thanked God for the fiery, passionate girl he held in his arms. "It's alright, sweetheart- I think I'm getting the picture." He pulled away and felt his stomach swoop at the intensely vulnerable look on her face. He bent to kiss the tip of her nose, his voice soft. "Make no mistake, I'm the luckiest fellow in the world already. And I wouldn't ever have thought I was owed anything more."

She gave him a loving look, and turned to face him on his lap. "No. You wouldn't." She cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him then, loving the way his arms pulled her against him. There was an unasked question in his eyes when he pulled away after a few minutes, bright hazel eyes that suddenly gleamed as Anne sat back, and placed his shaking hands on the pearly white buttons of her blouse, flushing as his hands smoothed over the contours of her chest in silent delight. When his fingers pushed the first button at her throat through the buttonhole, his breathing rapid, the two of them suddenly started as the mantel clock began to chime midnight. Silently they each counted the strokes before stillness fell over the dim living room. Gilbert pressed a chaste kiss to her precious mouth. He held her to him tightly, his voice low. "Happy anniversary, Mrs Blythe."

Anne pulled back to smile at him brilliantly. "It appears that we are right on time, then."

He then raised an impudent eyebrow at her, his hands still on her blouse. "Well? Is it bedtime, or shall we go on?"

Anne laughed and moved to kiss him again, shifting against his hips in a way that made him groan blissfully.

"Gilbert, if you don't, I _will_." She swung her hair over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. "And you know that I'm just as stubborn as you are."

"Oh, I'm counting on that."

His lips were on hers then, and he turned them both to lay on the sofa, his thigh sliding between hers as she shifted, her skirts exposing slender white legs as they moved together.

"Anne?"

"Mmm?"

"How do I get this contraption off?"

* * *

 **Hey, everyone! Just a quick personal note to you all: Thank you so much for your patience with me and this story, and thank you again for sending encouraging notes, follows, prayers and good wishes over this way! I'm so blessed by this community- and I can't tell you how much your interest in this story has meant to me, and the support you have been through what was a pretty gross year. I know many of you have been following my stories for some time, and so some of you would know that I was pretty sick this time last year (making finishing Shore of Dreams haaard) and it turns out that a disgusting bout of Ross River Virus some months ago has complicated things much further than I realised- so it's no wonder things haven't been the best lately! I'll be fine, it's just going to take some work to get well again- and I'm already feeling better than I have in months. All that to say, this community has been one of my happy places, and I want to thank you all. I've made some wonderful friends on here in the past three years.**

 **To all the writers on here: thank you also! I love your interpretations of Anne and Gilbert, I love the innate need to create that we have, and I love that we encourage each other to do the very best we can, with these wonderful characters of LMMs. I can't always respond to everyone personally, but please know that you've made me laugh, made me cry, (mostly in good ways) and you've allowed me to tell you stories, and read your own. Lastly, special thanks go to Kwak and Carrots, who remind me to keep writing- you inspire me, you nudge me if I need it, and you make me remember why we all love Anne so much.**

 **Love to you all, and I hope that 2019 is going to be a wonderful year for you all.**

 **Cate.**

 **P.S. By the way, I wrote most of the next chapter while THIS one was being recalcitrant! No month-long wait next time….**


	34. Chapter 34, The Road less Traveled

**Happy New Year, everyone! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, it always makes me smile! Now, a note of reassurance here: I started this story wanting to do something different- and the arc we're about to go on is the same one I've had planned since day 1.**

 **Chapter-wise, I'm thinking 40 is the magic number- although I've been wrong about that before, haven't I? Since this story was meant to be 'short'. In all my other writing I have to show restraint, however, there is a certain bliss knowing that the FF world is a very forgiving one- and this will join my other stories well over 200k. I irritate my son who is beginning the HSC, and my husband who is studying: they tell me they have essays due that are a staggering 2000 words- and I can't help but smirk. They have a lot of skills that I don't- but coming up with excess words is clearly mine.**

 **Thank you all for following this, for giving this your time, and for taking the time to let me know what you think of it too- you've made me a better writer by questioning me on things, and you've made my whole year by indulging the ridiculous notion that we could have a marriage of convenience trope existing in the AOGG world! I am wickedly glad it has succeeded.**

 **Love to you all, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 34**

The end of term sped by just as it had done the previous year. In the days between the Blythe's anniversary and Christmas, there was a whirlwind of exams, dances and meetings, and cosy nights spent before their fireplace. Gilbert himself felt as if he had gone through the last weeks of school in a haze. He sat in classes absently, a twisted smile on his face, his mind far more agreeably occupied by the events of the past weeks- events that had nothing at all to do with college.

He had gone to classes alone that day, begrudgingly leaving Anne at home in bed. The rest of the college had finished the day before, however, Professor Daniels had insisted on holding an intensive class for his students before they left for two weeks. Charlie and Moody had departed on the train with the girls that morning- and while they had all regarded Anne, Gilbert and Phil with great pity, the couple themselves were quite sanguine about the delay. He knew that Anne was looking forward to a leisurely day of packing and cleaning, and she had chuckled at his good-natured grumble on his way out of the bedroom that morning- which ended abruptly when Anne pulled him down to her, kissing him in such a way to make him grateful to be anywhere with his beloved wife.

He sat in the classroom with a smattering of other students, all of whom were similarly distracted. Phil was in a desk opposite him, doodling dreamily of a page of her notebook- he smothered a grin to see that she wasn't doing her work, but tracing initials- hers and Jo's. While Professor Daniels explained yet again the calculation for distance to another student, Gilbert allowed his mind to wander to the changes that had come to his marriage since their anniversary- changes that he could scarcely believe, he thought, his eyes glazing over as the professor talked.

When they were first married, he had felt- he had known that he needed to go slowly for Anne's sake. The peculiar sweetness of that time had seared him; seeing her first begin to respond to him as her husband, tentatively opening up to him and learning to see him as more than the boy she had known. There were moments along the way that had knocked him sideways- when she had initiated those first kisses, first touches- her laughter and warmth and companionship in the home that had been so very unwelcoming, to begin with. And little by little, the intimacy that had grown between them- culminating in the turbulent summer that had gifted him with her heart.

He sounded like a sap, he thought with a wry smile- not that it bothered him. He'd been utterly besotted with her years ago; however, this Anne who was now his wife was more intoxicating than he could have dreamed. Over and over she had honoured the promise she had made him in the depths of Hester's garden- that nothing would be allowed to come between them again. She drew him away from his studies when his brain grew overloaded, she gave him her time and her affection and confronted him when he was being bull-headed about something- which usually happened at exam-time. Sitting in the classroom now, he couldn't help but grin at the reminder of his wife pointing that out to him coolly, weeks ago.

A slightly different reaction to his wife made him shift in his seat uncomfortably, and Gilbert exhaled, trying to cool his heating face. He remembered too her curling into his side that night in the pretty nightgown that he loved, her grey eyes shining at him so tenderly. His own drifted to the arched windows, willing the snow outside to cool his response. Not so very long ago, he had reassured Anne that when it was time, they would discover the depth of the passion between them together- and to now be taking those first steps together almost took his breath away. She was incredible, he thought, a hard swallow of longing constricting his throat. The way her slim hands had insisted on exploring every inch of him she could reach, making him laugh in sheer happiness at her curiosity; and the way she placed his hands on her when she saw him hesitate, worried that it was pushing her too far. He'd done his best to hide the way she affected him, even knowing now that she was well aware- he'd been so afraid of frightening her.

And Anne had confronted that as only Anne could, reminding him gently that this was no tawdry affair, but the beginning of their journey together as man and wife. He'd met her suddenly shy glance, and his own eyes had darkened- he'd allowed himself to remove her blouse and corset then, adorning her dappled, ivory skin with greedy kisses, his hair standing on end at the low moans she gave as she held him to her breast. And when it all grew too much- when the two of them were breathing heavily, and he tried to draw away- she asked him to not leave, not to go for the run he had always taken refuge in. He had looked into the starry depths of her eyes and had his world shaken anew as he felt how very much she wanted him- a passion that met his own, frankly and wholeheartedly. For the very first time, he had stayed, making precious memories in the little house that was his whole world.

" _Gilbert_!" a voice suddenly hissed, startling him as he day-dreamed. He looked up to see Phil smirking at him, gesturing to the front where Professor Daniels stood waiting for the answer to a question he was sure he hadn't heard.

"Are you listening, Mr Blythe?" the teacher asked mildly.

Gilbert sighed, defeated. "Er- truthfully, no, sir."

Daniels threw down the chalk in his hand, looking around at the other students slumped into their desks, their eyes glassy and vacant. He rubbed his face, and then straightened up tiredly. "Focus, ladies and gentlemen. One more exercise, and then we'll be done."

* * *

While Gilbert was trying to stay present in his lecture, at the Mushroom Anne stood before an open suitcase, and a well-loved book open in one hand. In her other was a petticoat that had been dangling for several minutes, as she lost herself yet again in the lines of The Rosebud Garden. There had been a dreamy smile on her face when she picked it up that morning, remembering the infamous visit Mrs Charlotte E. Morgan had made to Green Gables, so long ago. Gilbert had often teased her about knowing the famous author personally- he had naturally been ambushed by the tale that summer, as Anne almost floated along the pathway to his house.

Her work for the semester was done, and her own story lay on the desk, fresh from the eighth time she had re-written it, with the changes that Professor Winston had suggested. She had come home in a furious temper only the week before- one which she now realised was perhaps as much to do with the time of the month as it was the criticism she had received from her teacher- and somehow managed to cut a week's supply of kindling in her ire. Gilbert had, of course, tried not to laugh at the way she had attacked the wood, and later held her when she shed some tears of disappointment in herself. He had been the one to reason with her when she calmed, reminding her that she was too close to her story to always see it clearly. This, she understood.

With some reluctance, Anne placed the book down on her bedside table, and began to fold the neglected petticoat, her eyes wandering to her desk. She had planned to give the story to Gilbert to read this Christmas. There was a curious shyness in doing this, exposing this piece of her heart- and of course, Gilbert would know how intensely personal this story was. It was safe with him, though, and there was a slight flutter in her abdomen, as she wondered what he would make of it.

Anne moved around the house as a light snowfall pattered down around the eaves, enjoying the peace and quiet of the day as she packed and cleaned. This would be a very different Christmas to the last, and she smiled now in remembrance of the innocent terror she and Gilbert had felt in telling their families about their impromptu marriage. One year had indeed changed everything.

* * *

By the time Gilbert arrived home that afternoon the house was immaculate, dinner was warming on the stove, and Rusty was curled up on Anne's lap as she read on the sofa, looking up with a brilliant smile as he dropped his heavy satchel on the floor.

"Ah, this is what bliss looks like," he mumbled, falling onto the sofa beside her, and he chuckled as she crawled into his lap to kiss him, her grey eyes studying him carefully.

"You're tired, dearest. Did you really have to do tutoring today?"

He didn't open his eyes, and she smiled at the grimace on his face. "Yes. Roy was in a mood today."

Anne tried not to smile, her eyes nonetheless twinkling. "What did he do this time?"

There was a frustrated sigh then, one that tickled her cheek. "Well, after Daniels finished with us, I was treated to a lecture on the evils of sub-standard teaching in non-private schools. If it wasn't bad enough that he's insisting on using a proper classroom for his tutoring every week, now he's grumbling about the college intake process, and questioning the ability for anyone under eighteen years old to either teach school or come to college."

Anne snorted disparagingly. "Well, I disagree with him, there."

"As do I."

"You could always come home and suggest that he finds another room to tutor his students in," Anne suggested, her pink lips quirked teasingly.

He grinned reluctantly. "Oh, I can't complain; it all works well enough, for now. Professor Hallett keeps adding students that I don't have time for to the session- and Gardner's got Rylan turning in essays that are acceptable, at least."

Anne's look at him was tender, touching the dark smudges beneath his eyes. "And what of your work?"

Gilbert's hand cupped her cheek, and he sighed. "One exam down. Twelve more to go."

Anne nodded, resting her head against his chest as his arms came around her. "On top of what you need to do already."

There was a slight pause, then. "It's going to be worth it, sweetheart."

Anne suddenly sat up, her look guarded as she studied him. "Gil, why do I sometimes feel as if you are trying to convince _yourself_ of that, rather than me?"

He gave her a startled glance. "I'm not doing that."

He relaxed when slender arms wrapped around his neck, and he had begun to think that she had dropped the subject when she spoke again. "Is that what concerns you? Whether or not you will win the Cooper?"

There was a silence then, and he hesitated. "No. I'm not worried about that."

"Then what is it? I can tell that something has been bothering you, lately."

Gilbert's face was still as he watched the movement of the flames in the grate, and when he spoke it was oddly deliberate. "I'm as prepared as anyone has ever been, or so I've been told. As long as I keep working at the same rate, I should pass the exams easily." He seemed distant, and she watched him carefully. "I'm more concerned with what happens after I win it, to be honest." He gave her a slight smile, his eyes softening. "I was planning on talking to you about the Cooper tonight."

"You don't want to right now?"

He chuckled. "My mother says that no conversation is worth ruining a meal for it. It can wait. Besides, don't we still need to pack for tomorrow?"

"So it isn't anything urgent?"

"Nope," he said lightly. "We've got plenty of time."

* * *

Three hours later, the supper table had been cleared away, and a custard pie was cooling on the counter- to use up the last of the eggs and milk, Anne had commented with a laugh, before shooing Gilbert to the bedroom to pack his bag. The holiday ahead promised to be a wonderful one- ten glorious days without classes in the bosom of their families. They had heard from Amelia the previous week, telling them that the families had decided in advance where the couple would be staying. While the pair were initially taken aback by the prospect of a pre-arranged holiday without any input from them, Gilbertrem shrugged, reminding her that at least they would have a bedroom to themselves, wherever they went.

Anne was putting the finishing touches on the kitchen when Gilbert came behind to sweep her off her feet, carrying her into the cosy lounge room. He tucked her up beside him, putting a be-frilled cushion behind her back as she liked.

"I only had a few more things to do, Gil," Anne said indulgently.

"I'll do them for you later. For now, I want you to lend me your ears."

She couldn't help but tease him, now, concern swirling in her belly. "You look fearfully solemn, Gilbert. I haven't done anything naughty today- that I know of."

He grinned then, his hazel eyes twinkling. "I trust I would have been invited, if you had, Anne-girl." To his delight, she blushed, and he chuckled. He turned to her then, his arm stretched along the back of the sofa, stroking gentle fingers through her red curls. "I wanted to talk to you about the Cooper tonight- you can probably guess that I've been thinking about next year."

This had the effect of sobering her up, and Anne's grey eyes were hesitant. They had avoided discussing this since September- despite the constant rain and the hard grind of studies, the past two months had been the most wonderful of her life. Evenings spent with Gilbert, no longer holding back, no longer treading waters of uncertainty with each other- he was in her heart, and she was most securely in his.

"I suppose that we had to discuss it properly sooner or later," she admitted softly, and Gilbert nodded. He watched her chin come up, and she turned to face him bravely. "I have told you repeatedly that we can do this, Gil. Mrs Whitley will have us for as long as we wish- she was telling me so last week."

"Anne-"

"And I can start applying for schools," she said brightly. "Many of them won't take me because we are already married, however surely there is a mission school somewhere nearby that needs a teacher. It will work. If you go somewhere in the summertime, I will go with you- and you know that some of the little sketches I have been sending out are beginning to earn some money too. And Professor Winston has been telling me that I need to send my story to one of the magazines, soon. He thinks that it may be ready."

"Anne, honey-"

"And we've just had our first anniversary!" she added, coaxingly. "We've done this together for a year now, how much longer would three years really be?"

" _Three years_ longer, darling," Gilbert finally interjected. "Look, I don't doubt that we can do it."

"Good. I-"

"No, _my_ turn now," he said, exasperated, hauling her onto his lap and effectively stopping her mid-thought.

Anne could only laugh, then. "You're such an only child, Gil. You must learn to take turns."

He chuckled when she snuggled under his chin. "You're the one who keeps interrupting, Anne- and you're just as much of an only child as I am." He saw her begin to protest and rolled his eyes. "I know, I know- but Davy and Dora are my siblings too, now, so we're even. Now shush." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and continued. "What if I didn't use the Cooper?"

Anne moved away from him in trepidation. "What do you mean?"

His voice was gentle. "I think you know what I mean, sweetheart."

"You- you wouldn't go to Medical school?" She moved to face him, her eyes huge. "Gilbert, this is your chance-"

"I'd like to think I have more than one, actually."

"You're thinking about giving it up?"

"Yes."

Her green eyes snapped in the firelight, and he watched her hands ball into fists as she rose. "Gil, it's why we got married all those months ago- it's why we stayed in college. So that you could do _this_."

"No, it wasn't," he said quietly. "I told you in the beginning- medical school was never a certainty. We stayed here because we both needed to finish our Arts degree- and we needed to do that together. And I'd like to think that our marriage is more than that now."

Anne knelt down before him, her eyes pleading as she placed her hands on his thighs. "Of course it is, dearest. I love you more each day. But you told me yourself- I wouldn't have stayed; not for myself alone. You know how I felt back then. I stayed for _you_ \- I wanted you to have everything you deserved, everything your heart desired. Including all of your ambitions."

He smiled at her fondly. "And what about _your_ ambitions?"

She half smiled, before she shook her head. "Being a doctor means something to you, Gil."

He paused, trying to find the words. "You're right. But it doesn't mean what it used to," he said gently, prepared for her anger- which erupted promptly.

"You cannot let go of this because of me- because of _us_ ," she said furiously. "This is exactly what Professor Daniels warned me about a year ago. I told you I would wait- we can wait. We'd be together while you study, and that is all that matters."

He waited with raised eyebrows until she became silent, before he continued. "I've been thinking about this for months," he admitted. "I wanted the Cooper because I wanted Medical school. And then I wanted the Cooper because I wanted to shove it down Professor Hallett's throat," he said indelicately, making her laugh, despite the solemnity of the situation. "I still do. I wanted to provide well for you and our family- and I wanted to do it in a job I would love."

Her look was gentle as she raised her hand to stroke his cheek. "That's not too much to ask, Gil."

"Come back here." He pulled her onto his lap again, his arms around her waist tightly. "Anne, this isn't sudden, for me. I've been tutoring the other students for a few months now- and even though we've appreciated the miniscule income, it's some of the most fulfilling work I've ever done," he added slowly. "It's actually helping them. I'm watching them change before my very eyes. Gardner's not wrong, in some ways- the quality of a teacher can make or break a student. You know what Miss Stacey did for us- and you know that if Mr Phillips had stayed, you and I would have found it harder to get where we are now. And- while I've been trying to sort all of this out in my mind- I- _might_ have accidentally taught a class at Redmond yesterday."

Anne looked at him, bewildered. "What on earth do you mean?"

He gave her a wry grin. "I mean, that I was pulled up to teach introductory Chemistry to a freshman class." Understandably, Anne seemed to be having trouble processing this, and Gilbert smoothed his hands over her waist, his voice droll. "My supervisor- Professor Walker- is known for having a rather delicate constitution across the science faculty. Someone from the biology department walked through the classroom with a pair of old sheep lungs-"

"Good grief!" Anne said, aghast, and then began to laugh. "Oh dear. Did anyone leave?"

He grinned. "Just Walker. He turned green, and the next thing I knew, he was thrusting his notes at me for a class that I was supposed to be observing, before he rushed out of the room. He didn't come back, and they were all looking at me- so I just started in on the notes. It's nothing I haven't done a hundred times before, the work was very basic- he came back a few minutes before the class was due to end, and just waved at me to continue, while he collapsed at his desk."

Anne's eyebrows were almost at her hairline. "Gilbert, that is completely unprofessional!"

He chuckled. "He's an old man, sweetheart. He's been at the college for decades, and anyone can tell that he's tired. I suspect that's why he asked for me to intern with him- I've done all kinds of things that I probably shouldn't be doing, as you well know- marking, attending meetings. It's irregular, but Daniels just shrugs and tells me that it's all good experience. And it _is_. Somehow, yesterday, it just felt right to be up there."

There was a hurt look in Anne's grey eyes then, one that Gilbert had no trouble interpreting. "If it was so important to you, why didn't you want to tell me about it then?"

"Come on, it's not like that, Anne-girl," he said gently. "We both had late classes yesterday, not to mention that you were exhausted and in bed by nine o'clock last night. I figured it wasn't time for the discussion yet. I just thought I'd wait till we finished for the semester- which we now _are_."

Anne was silent then, her look brooding. Gilbert held back a smile at her expression, seeing for a brief moment the schoolgirl she had once been toward him, however, he kept this thought to himself.

"I've known that there was something troubling you," she mumbled eventually. "Gil, why am I only hearing about this now?"

"Because I didn't want to say anything until I was sure. We still had so much time to go, last year- it seemed foolish to try and decide things before I even knew what was possible. I needed to sort it out in my own mind first. Surely you can understand that, love."

"Is that supposed to be a comment on the first nine months of our relationship?"

He grinned at her then, the smile that could almost disarm anything, Anne thought. "No. But there _are_ similarities. And it does involve the same people."

He yelped at the sharp elbow that met his ribs and laughed, pulling her close again. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hazel eyes falling before hers as a deeper silence fell. "Anne, I wasn't sure what you would think of all this. I was afraid that- you might somehow feel cheated."

She scowled at him then, jabbing him with a slender finger. "That is _completely_ idiotic. I didn't marry a profession, I married you. You know that."

"Yes, however, I will need a profession."

Anne looked at him carefully. "And I assume that you have an alternative plan."

Gilbert hesitated and then nodded. "I wouldn't decide anything without talking to you. We started this together, and it will stay that way. But lately, I've been thinking about teaching. It's still a fight- I told you years ago that man was born to fight something. I'd be fighting for education- and those who would say that no child should rise above their parents. Giving my students the knowledge they need to better themselves, to better their families. It's what I'm trained for. I know that we could wait- and I know that being a doctor was my only path, for a long time. It's just that in my mind now there is another path- and I'm beginning to think I'd like it just as well."

Anne looked at him, bewildered. "Gil, you didn't like teaching the way that I did."

He rolled his eyes. "That was when I had to look after infants. Sorting out irrational arguments between six-year-olds- _'he touched my slate,'_ and _'she's looking at me, Mr Blythe_ '-" Here, Anne's lips quirked at his tone. "I want to teach in a high school- fix problems before they get to university- and I want to teach my fields. Science and mathematics."

Anne drew in a deep breath. "Like my mother." Gilbert blinked at her in confusion, and Anne smiled, her grey eyes warm. "They were both teachers at the high school in Bolingbroke," she said softly. "Father taught History- and apparently Mother was a mathematics teacher before they married."

He stared at her in surprise. "I just assumed-"

"-that she would have been an English student like me?" she said lightly. "Oh, I know- but no. Her letters were wonderful- but Mrs Thomas told me that she taught mathematics, much to her horror- she said that no woman had a right to do so. I should love to have proved her wrong about that- however you know my ineptitude with geometry."

Gilbert was silent for some time, before brushing the hair back from her eyes. "Anne, I know that we planned something different- but could you settle for me being a teacher? Doctors are supposed to be a better catch."

Her grey eyes twinkled at him. "I've already caught you. Although I was supposed to marry a poet," she added thoughtfully. "How are you doing with that, by the way?"

He laughed then, before leaning down to whisper in her ear- "Oh, Annest of Annes, your eyebrows are _brown_ -"

"A sonnet to my eyebrows, Gil? Really?"

"I don't like it when they _frown_ -"

"Gilbert!"

"And then maybe something suggestive with the word _gown_ -"

Anne laughed, swatting his arm. "Gilbert Blythe! Is that any way to speak to your wife?"

He only raised one of his own eyebrows and grinned. "You know that you love it."

Anne was silent for a few minutes then, and Gilbert watched her patiently. "You were the one who told me that we didn't have it in us to settle, weren't you?" She looked at him then, and he tensed as her face fell. "Gil, I'm just afraid that you're doing this for the wrong reasons."

He pulled her even closer, his hazel eyes earnest. " _Two_ pathways, Anne. Not one greater, not one lesser- two distinct roads that we can take. I don't want the old one as I did once- and I think that I want this."

To this, Anne frowned and turned on his lap to face him, her skirts fanning out on both sides. She cupped his face in her hands and studied him with intelligent eyes.

"What does this future look like, then?"

Gilbert's hands were on her waist, and he tried to remain still and focus with her sitting the way she was on him. He gave his head a slight shake and spoke quietly. "I- I find somewhere to teach. If I couldn't find a school in Kingsport, I suppose we would need to move- maybe back to the Island. If we weren't close to home, I thought that we could still spend our summers in Avonlea- you know the families would love to have us- although I haven't ruled out the idea of one day buying a house there for us to holiday in," he admitted, with a smile. "We'd be close to our families every summer, and still have our own space. Professionally, I'd work my way up. I did have a thought- that I'd like to keep up my studies, while I work, somehow. I don't want to waste this opportunity. And assuming that I win the Cooper, that would more than pay for a Masters program. Eventually, I'd want to end up teaching at a university. I've been working on some chemistry research with Professor Walker for the past few months- he's been hinting that he wants to continue it next year if I'm around. I was thinking that if we stayed in Kingsport, perhaps I could keep my ties with Redmond."

Anne couldn't speak, watching him closely. "And you would be happy doing that?" she asked softly.

"I _am_ happy," he corrected her, his hands warm against her torso. "I'm happy as we are right now- and I believe that I would be if I chose to not go to medical school." Needing to be completely honest with her, he sighed. "That's a lot of the reason. But I also know how difficult it would be to wait and work and to put our family off for another three years like this- and I don't want the pressure falling on you to help make ends meet, while I'm studying." He gave a wry smile. "I'm no saint, you know that- I'd resent the fact that you had to do it, instead of me. Old fashioned or not, I want that role to be mine. And I'll admit that while I'm over the moon that we have the understanding that we do, I suppose it does make me a little more impatient for things that have needed to wait."

"Like making love?" she asked quietly and smiled as his hands involuntarily clutched her waist.

"Yes. But that doesn't mean we'd do anything right away in any case- you might still want to wait, before we started a family. I don't want to stand in the way of your dreams, either."

Anne smoothed her hand over his cheek, loving the feel of his rough jaw against her palm. "My dreams were never as concrete as a career, Gil. And they certainly include our babies." He gave her a smile that was delirious with happiness at the tender way she spoke. "The things that I want to do- the things that _stir_ me- I believe that I can do those at any time."

He nudged her then, his eyes intent on her. "What are they?"

She chuckled, leaning her forehead against his. "I'm- I suppose that I'm still thinking that through."

He nodded, his eyes yearning. "Tell me whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

"I will." She rose to put her arms around his neck. "Darling, I want you to think about this for a little longer."

Gilbert gave her a resigned look. "I've been thinking about this since that day in the tent."

This was a temporary shock, and after a moment she swallowed and nodded. "Alright. I accept that. But I don't want to take that step until you are quite sure- it isn't like you could change your mind afterwards."

"By that point, I wouldn't _want_ to, love. Look, I wanted to talk to Uncle Dave about it before I decided anything- he and Aunt Melinda will be in Avonlea when we go home."

"What do you expect him to say?"

He chuckled slightly, then. "I don't know. I've been talking his ear off about medical school for years. I know that I don't owe him anything- I just want to see what he thinks."

Anne's look was gentle, and she carded her fingers through his brown hair. "It's a good idea, Gil. We'll be fine, whatever you choose to do. We've been doing this life rather well though, don't you think?"

He smiled, settling back on the sofa, and bringing her down with him. "We have. But we both know that this has only been temporary- we've got one foot in our college days, and the other in our happily ever after."

Anne's eyes were clear as she regarded him, resting her cheek on his broad shoulder. "That doesn't sound so terrible, does it?"

She smiled when his chest moved with his laughter. "No, it's the best of both worlds. However, it won't be the same for us next year- Di and Fred are about to become parents, the girls will be gone from Kingsport, and Phil will be a minister's wife- as hilarious an idea as that is."

Anne scowled at him, then. "And she will make a wonderful one."

"I'm not denying that. But you won't have college to ground you. If you were at college for the next three years with me, it would be a different story," he said slowly. "We'd both be in the same place, and at the same stage. I know you, Anne-girl, and I have no doubt that you would want to work for us, and that the Cooper would pay for my tuition- but the strain it would place on our relationship, being at different stages of life would still be there. I would be gone from morning till well after night each day, not including what I would have to do at the hospital."

Anne was silent, thinking through all he had shared, a slight crease on her brow. "That isn't to say that we couldn't do it."

"No. However, the fact that I don't want to says rather a lot."

Anne lay back on the sofa beside him, her hand covering her eyes. He rolled over to face her, smoothing his hand across her belly with a dreamy look on his face. The weeks since their anniversary had been some of the most wonderful of his life- and as Anne slipped her hands into the collar of his shirt, he lay his head on her rounded breast with a smile. There was silence for a time, and then she placed her hand on his cheek, to make him look at her.

"You _really_ mean this?"

He pulled her close then, his lips nuzzling her chin softly. "I do."

Anne was fighting to not be distracted by the heat in his eyes, or the warm hands that now moved to cup her hips, and she gripped the front of his shirt with a determined look. "Gilbert, if you do change your mind- if you decide over the next six months that you want medical school after all- it will be alright. You need to do it if you do."

He shook his head, wonderingly. "You're a miracle, sweetheart. Here I am telling you that our future may be even more uncertain than it was before- and you're not bothered by that."

Anne's clear laughter made him shudder with longing as he shifted her on top of his long form, his hands shifting further southward. "You and I are not made for calm waters, Gil. Where would be the adventure?"


	35. Chapter 35, So Much to Tell You

**Greetings, people!**

 **I'll be honest, it took me a while to get my writing mojo back this time around- and not just because this is the hottest summer my hometown has had since the 1940s. We are the 'sunburnt country', and the 'land of droughts and flooding plains' after all: this year we're living up to Dorothea Mackellar's poetry. (and many thanks to Oz Diva for correcting who actually wrote it! Not Banjo! And I call myself an Aussie...)**

 **I expected a reaction to the change of career for Gilbert, and it was pretty much as I thought it would be. I'm not going to blame it on my muse (please…) however I will state that my driving motivation was to do something different to my other stories. Others, including me, have written about the stresses of a medical career and three years studying, and of course, Canon will always have Gil as a doctor- and no one can take that away! Anne is allowed latitude with her career, and I just wanted to write something that wasn't constricted by Gilbert's- especially when I'm going to go from this to the sequel to WTC straight away, pending a scheduled nervous breakdown at the finish of this. It's been a different story all along- and it's entirely up to you how you feel about it too. I do hope that even though it's different, it's still Anne and Gilbert. For the readers who commented that Gilbert just wants sex, well: he's a 24-year-old male in love with his wife- of course, he does! I often get asked why church kids get married so young (and we often do)- use your imagination, people! It's a big motivator, especially in an era where they can't just have it all. That's not all that's motivating him though- in my mind, it's the financial pressure and the fear of not being there enough for Anne that's really getting to this Gilbert.**

 **All that being said, I appreciate those who are giving this a chance, and all those who expressed their surprise kindly- I'll admit that a couple of comments had me wanting to toss the whole thing. You'd think I'd developed thicker skin by now… still, after some very encouraging words, I'm still going. Much love to you all, and wherever in the world you are, cold or hot, may your day be kind to you.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

On the twenty-fourth of December, Amelia Blythe ran to the door for the tenth time that evening, anxiously listening for the sound of the sleigh-bells on the wind. A storm had been swirling in the north, and she found herself eying the sky as she did the chores, trying not to picture the little Island ferry being tossed on the choppy straight. John had pointed out quite calmly that Gilbert and Anne were coming from the opposite direction- and he had been sanguine that he and the children (that title would persist) would be home before it hit. Her eyes again turned to the clock, calculating how long the trip from Carmody was in the sleigh.

It was almost ten o clock at night when there was a muffled stomping on the veranda and the sound of her husband's voice outside. Amelia came flying down the stairs just as Gilbert himself stepped over the threshold, only narrowly escaping being bowled over by his mother.

"Ma, come on; you only saw us three months ago!" he protested, over the tearful babbling that was muffled by his heavy jacket.

Mrs Blythe pulled away from him with a scowl, not seeing Anne for a moment in an effort to find her handkerchief. "Oh, just you wait until one of _your_ precious children leaves the nest. Then we will see how cavalier you are about how long they have been gone."

"I bet Angus will be first," Gilbert muttered to his wife, who began to laugh, drawing Amelia's attention at once to her daughter-in-law- and felt her jaw dropping open in shock at her appearance.

"Anne, dear, what on earth has happened to you?" she scolded, reaching for Anne's bedraggled jacket and hat, and ushering the shivering girl into the warm parlour. "And who is Angus? Angus Pye?"

Gilbert grinned. "Nothing, Ma. Just a private joke. And Anne had a little- er, accident at the station."

All attention at once went to the young redhead, and she sighed, a wry smile on her face as she peeled off her wet gloves. "I forgot to watch my footing when I was coming down the stairs of the station- it was so lovely to be home, and I was thrilling to see the snow-"

"And so she decided to inspect it face first," John said, with a very Gilbert-like twinkle in his eye. He had been concerned for his daughter-in-law as well, however seeing Gilbert toss the heavy bags at him in a mad attempt to catch his airborne wife had been too funny to not laugh at.

"Oh, goodness, Anne, you're wet right through," she scolded, turning to hustle Anne back through the door. "Gilbert, bring your bags upstairs, please- I'm putting the two of you in your room. Your aunt and uncle will be in the guest room for the holidays."

Anne exchanged an intrigued glance with her husband, and several minutes later the two of them stood in his old bedroom, now complete with a full sized bed that had not been there three months earlier, and taking up most of the available space.

Gilbert gave his mother an amused look. "You really don't want to chance us going anywhere else, do you?"

Amelia scowled at him. "Nonsense. We are quite content to share you with Marilla. However, you are all grown up now, and the two of you need some space to call your own here, as well."

While Anne pulled a fresh dress from her suitcase, Gilbert inspected the new bed. "Dad's work?"

"Of course; he's had the pieces out in the barn for some time- however, he had to wait until after the harvest to begin."

"It's so lovely of you both," Anne said softly, as Gilbert slipped an arm around her. "Thank you."

Amelia clucked as she took up the soiled jacket and hat, her eyes suspiciously wet. "Well, it's more than a pleasure to have you both here. Now, do get changed, Anne- I'll go and get the supper ready."

When the door closed behind her, Gilbert turned to see Anne unbuttoning her blouse, a slight grimace on her face. He stood before her, batting her hand away gently to help her. "I'll wrap your wrist once we get downstairs- I notice you didn't tell Mother about that." Anne shrugged, a small smile on her face as Gilbert helped her out of the wet fabric, her petticoats having escaped the worst of the water. He slipped a simple navy gown over her head as she moved her hair out of the way of the buttons. "I do prefer doing this in reverse, you know."

"Oh, hush. And I am not naming any child Angus."

"And yet you didn't like Horatio!"

"Neither do you! Did you forget that this was a hypothetical discussion?"

He snorted at her, then, as his fingers deftly buttoned her up. "Look, if it wasn't a hypothetical discussion, I'd be tossing you on that bed right now, and making my parents wait on their supper for a little while yet."

She stilled under his hands, a flush blooming on her cheeks. "You are dreadfully cheeky, tonight, Gil. I hadn't realised how excited you were to be coming home."

He shrugged, a smile lurking in his eyes. "It's not about the break- although I expect us to have a great time. I'm just- happy."

Anne turned to the small mirror above Gilbert's desk, watching him surreptitiously as she put her red curls back into order again. He had been in rare form that morning as they left Kingsport, tormenting Rusty and capering around the house like a boy, and making her laugh with his antics as they walked to the train station. They hadn't discussed the Cooper again, or the medical school conundrum, and she wondered if perhaps that was a good thing, for now. As he took her hand in his with a bright grin to lead her down the stairs, she couldn't help but smile in return. If just sharing this burden openly brought him so much joy- what might a whole lifetime do, of walking each and every road together?

* * *

The clock had chimed midnight before John was able to convince his wife to let the couple get some sleep, knowing that the following day would be busy enough. Gilbert closed the door of his bedroom behind them with a little grin, seeing the adorable scowl on Anne's face as she pulled out her nightgown. He knew what would follow, and adored seeing her like this- the cold of their bedroom at home often had her quickly changing before the fire, skirts, blouses and petticoats flying in every which way as she sought to keep the cold at bay. He'd teased her after rescuing her skirts from the hearth a few times, claiming that running after her clothing was good for football practice.

"Am I going to have to fetch your clothes from all corners of my childhood bedroom?"

Anne was removing her stockings and glanced up at him, her mouth twisted into a smile of such witchery that he felt his heart miss a beat. "I think that you like that idea."

Gilbert laughed, turning to his own suitcase to give her some space to change. He'd dreamed of her in here, after all- and he couldn't help but wonder at the reality of their life together now. The line that they walked was still a curious one, he supposed- slowly learning each other, growing in their intimacy over time. They had the time, he had realised in Kingsport; time to discover who they were together, to work out what the two of them wanted for their lives. He couldn't help but chuckle, thinking of Professor Hallett's harshness a year ago. He should thank him, he supposed. It was a quality of time they never could have had in an engagement, where all proprieties had to be observed. Without looking around, he unbuttoned the shirt she was so fond of removing, smiling at the familiar sigh she gave as she unhooked her corset. It was such a pretty thing, he thought dreamily- pale blue silk, with ivory embroidery along the hem- and yet the softness of the chemise underneath, and the softness of her skin underneath- that, he adored. He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he turned around, to see her braiding her thick curls back, her flannel nightgown covering her from head to toe. Gilbert took her momentarily free hand with a frown, smoothing his fingers over the white bandage there, and causing her to drop the strand of red hair she was working on.

"I was working on that," Anne scolded, without ire. "You know what happens to my hair if I don't pull it back in the evening."

He suppressed a laugh at the memory of a cloud of wild curls one morning, and held up his own hands in protest. "I was just checking your wrist!"

Anne shrugged dismissively. "It's a mild sprain, Gil. I've had worse." She found herself being tugged into his arms then, and sighed gently. His sensitivity to her past had frustrated her a good deal since they had returned to Kingsport; to the point where she had finally exploded in late October that year, telling him that she regretted telling him anything. It had taken a missed concert and a fairly frank discussion to get to the bottom of that one- and her rather peeved husband had eventually agreed that _yes_ , he needed to not overreact- but that she needed to accept that he would never be able to hear her story unmoved.

And of course, the making up had been rather wonderful.

She finished the braid and blew out the lamp, slipping down under the covers beside him with a sigh. "I've never been in your bedroom until today," she said thoughtfully, looking around the dark room. "I feel as if we should somehow take note of this moment."

He chuckled, then. "We've been roommates for a year, now- I don't see that the location makes much difference."

This typically pragmatic comment from Gilbert made her laugh. "Then how do you explain the besotted look on your face at the sight of _my_ bedroom, last year?"

"That was different! It was yours!"

"And this is _yours_."

To his shock, Anne slid back out of bed then, her bare feet muffled by the rug underfoot. "Love, you'll freeze out there. Save exploring until the morning."

"No, I'm making memories," she said stubbornly, turning then to look out of his window with a slight smile. The snow falling lightly on the windowsill, and all was perfectly still outside. "It must be wonderful here in the autumn- you look out over the orchard."

He shook his head at her, grinning as he moved to join her. "It is." He angled her then toward the south-east. "You can see the edge of the Haunted Wood there- And if you use your imagination very hard, looking from here, Green Gables is right over that hill."

She chuckled, as his hands wrapped around her waist tightly. "And did you often use your imagination then?"

"Oh, all the time."

She turned to face the desk in the corner of the room, a twinkling look in her eyes as she beheld the assortment of mementos on his desk- books covering his bookshelf, perfectly kept free of dust by his mother. There were odd photographs of the family, a class photo from Queens, and even a picture of Gilbert with his class at White Sands. "And are their any souvenirs of our school days here? No notes from the other girls-"

Gilbert snorted. "I got rid of those years ago. I only kept them to prove that I was likable to someone- even if it wasn't to you, yet." He paused then, seeing an unusual look of insecurity on Anne's face. "Sweetheart, it's only been you for me, since you hit me with a slate. You know that."

She shook her head, summoning a smile. "I do. I- I suppose I just wonder what else could have come between us before I came to my senses." She saw his hazel eyes fixed on hers in the dim room and rolled her own in derision. "I was worried, back then- not that I was willing to admit it, of course- that you might find someone in White Sands. There were often rumours that you had."

"You could have asked me about them, you know." He grinned at her, crossing the room to kiss her nose lightly. "When would I have had the time? I taught, I prepared lessons, and I came home every spare weekend that I could. Did you not notice that I found my way to you almost every Friday night?"

Anne frowned. "They were usually our AVIS evenings, weren't they?"

"I was the president for a reason. I didn't want to wait until Saturday to see you."

Anne began to laugh, and he scooped her up to place her on the bed. "And just how often did you use our Society to advance your own cause?"

"Well, we were called the 'Courting club' for a reason." To this cheek, he was met an indignant cry and a pillow to the face, and he caught it with a laugh, as she glared at him.

"You and I _swore_ that we were serious about the AVIS! Even if no one else-"

He stopped her mouth with a firm kiss, settling opposite her. "I was, you goose. I still am. But getting to create something with you- seeing you every moment I could, well, that was the best thing about it."

Anne sighed, her look softening. "I agree." They sat looking at each other in silence, and Anne smiled. "Did you keep any mementoes of our school days, then?"

He climbed off the bed to light the lamp again, opening his cupboard door in the now much smaller space. He pulled a box off the top shelf and handed it to his wife, who gave him a bright glance. "You'll recognise some of the things in there, I'm certain."

Anne opened it to see the things she had expected to see- the transcript of his scores from Queens, the certificate stating that he had won the Medal, and the newspaper that the results of the Entrance, their names together.

"I really was proud to be up there with you," she said quietly, tracing her finger down the list of names. "When it came down to it, it was right for us to be equals."

He smiled, as she moved the box into the light. He pulled out a crumpled mass of tissue paper. "This- _used_ to be a rose," he said, somewhat regretfully. "It got a bit knocked around in here. From the concert where I tried to recite a poem for you."

Anne choked. "Bingen on the Rhine? Really?"

He gave an easy shrug, his smile sheepish. "Well, it's not like I could tell you in person that I liked you. Why not poetry for the English student?"

She chuckled as he placed it in her hand, her eyes sparkling. "Di always said that you took this. I really should apologise to her- at the time, I told her you didn't have the imagination to be so romantic."

"I married the queen of romance, love. I had to have some, at least."

There was a thick bundle of letters next, from the age of the paper Anne supposed them to be from his childhood. There were hastily scrawled letters from Charlie and Moody, letters from his mother, Uncle Dave, and finally, underneath them was a faded dance card, bearing the name of _Anne Shirley._ "I wanted to keep this, you thief," she cried, laughing. "My very first dance card!"

"Well, your future husband kept it safe for you, so I don't know why you're complaining-"

Anne held it out of his reach with twinkling eyes when he went to grab it from her, his cheeks unusually flushed. "It is mine, isn't it, beloved? I may at least look at it." She ignored his pained look and opened it, to find that a stubborn hand had scrawled over the dances with one word- a smudged ' _mine_.' She looked up at him, her own cheeks heating. " _Gil_ -"

He groaned, flopping back against the bed. "Anne, you were never supposed to see that."

"Even if I actually married you?"

He gave a sheepish laugh, then. "Hopefully by then, you would think it charming that the younger me was possessive and slightly obsessed with someone who hated me."

Anne bent closer to kiss him, her eyes twinkling as her nose brushed his. "I do. Of course, I would have murdered you in cold blood if I had found it at the time."

"Obviously." He sighed, looking around his old room, and rose to bundle things back into the box. "We can do more of this tomorrow. You realise that we've been awake for almost twenty hours, now."

Anne smiled, smoothing the ruffled curls on his head. "Alright. We should sleep."

His face suddenly brightened, as he leant into her slim hand. "I'll show you one more thing in here, if you like- come on."

Anne climbed off the bed as he did, bemused when Gilbert tossed the box on his desk, and shoved his heavy wardrobe aside. She gave herself a brief moment to dreamily watch the muscles on his arms move as he did so, until he grinned at her knowingly. "Do you mind, Mrs Blythe?"

She chuckled with a little blush, reaching out a hand to brush his sleeve. "Not at all." He grabbed her hand then, and tugged her down onto the floor. "What exactly am I looking for?"

He rolled his eyes, and pointed down to the skirting boards, where her name was scratched with his on the worn floorboards, just where the wardrobe hid it. Anne chuckled, as she traced the crudely carved heart surrounding their names. "You did this?"

"No, Mother immortalized you in here," he teased. "Of course I did. One of my- _many_ \- lovesick moments while we taught. Had she seen it, she would have made me sand it off."

Gilbert pushed back the wardrobe as she rose, and scooped her up in his arms to deposit her on the new bed. Around an enormous yawn Anne curled herself into his embrace, loving the feel of his solid presence behind her as his hand flicked the covers over them both. His firm arm pillowed her head, and the other slipped around her waist. In the silence, she murmured- "We have a long history, Gil."

She could feel his smile against the top of her head, as his arm tightened around her. "I'm more excited about the long future we have ahead of us."

There was a longer silence then, one in which Gilbert was almost asleep.

"Gil? Do you think-"

"Anne, honey?"

"Mmm?

"Go to sleep."

She smiled at his deep chuckle, and snuggled down in his arms, watching the snow falling through the window. Her eyes began to drift closed, and she sighed as his hand pressed her closer to him, warm and comforting over her belly. Only one word could make sense of the comfort that radiated through her being at that moment- that of _home_.

* * *

By Christmas morning, the storm had blown itself out, and the world was a dazzling white as far as the eye could see. Anne could hear movement in the house early that morning and swiftly dressed, giggling at the way Gilbert had only roused to squint at her without comprehension, before pulling her pillow over his face and going back to sleep. She tightened the sash on her green dress, closing the door behind her quietly, feeling oddly conscious to be sneaking out of Gilbert's childhood bedroom so early in the morning. As silly as it was, this feeling only grew when she walked into the kitchen, blushing brightly at the amused look between Gilbert's parents.

"Good morning, dear. How was your sleep?"

Anne took the cup of tea Amelia passed her, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Very comfortable, thank you. The bed was a lovely surprise."

John straightened up from the bench he was leaning on with a sly grin. "Well, I didn't have enough warning to do it in time for last Christmas."

Anne gulped nervously, despite the small twinkle in his eyes. "Have we ever apologised about that?" she said feebly, making his parents laugh outright.

"Several times, dear- not that we would change a thing."

There was a step on the stairs soon afterwards, and Anne looked up to see Gilbert entering the kitchen, adorably tousled, and snapping his suspenders into place. He had a smile for his parents, however, when they turned away to get the breakfast on, his attention went to Anne.

"That wasn't fair," he murmured, bending to kiss her upturned face. "This was the first Christmas I got to wake up in bed with my wife. You didn't want to wait for me?"

Momentarily forgetting his parents, Anne smiled. "You wake up with me daily, Gil. And besides, I was too excited to stay in bed."

The couple talked quietly at the table for a few minutes, and the kitchen was beginning to fill with the smell of a big farm breakfast. Amelia was quick to place a loaded plate before everyone, before attempting to bring some order to Gilbert's curly head.

"This does need a cut, dear. Why on earth were the pair of you so late to leave Kingsport? Almira Sloane said that Charlie and Moody arrived home two days ago."

Gilbert shared a grin with Anne. "I had a late class- and besides, we figured that having another day to prepare wasn't a bad thing."

At his mother's curious look, Anne chuckled. "Sometimes we forget that the other students are only boarding- they may just pack and leave. Whereas we have a house-"

"And a cat." Gilbert added.

Amelia set down her teacup with a little sigh. "Of course. How silly of me- I often forget that Avonlea really isn't home any longer, for either of you."

Before the melancholy of that statement could set in, Gilbert smiled at his bride. "I prefer to think of us as being lucky enough to have a home in two places." He picked up her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it, causing John Blythe to choke on a piece of bacon.

"Mercy on us, is this what we missed by you two courting away in the city?" His wife swatted him with a scowl, quite enamoured with the way the young folk gazed at each other, their happiness evident to all.

Anne pulled away with a little laugh, her cheeks flushing. "Well, technically, we didn't court- not really."

"Or that we were always courting," Gilbert pointed out smugly. "Would you look at that! Mrs Lynde was right."

Despite the multiple letters that had gone back and forth over the term, there was much news to catch up on. At one point the conversation lightly touched on Anne and Gilbert's plans following college. Anne's glance flew to her husband, who gave a subtle shake of his head, before replying composedly that they had not yet made any decisions- however they would let them all know as soon as they had. He ignored the startled glance between his parents, turning the talk instead to young Davy Keith, and the hours he has spent at the Blythe farm over the harvest. Davy had taken a great notion to farming, of late, and Anne could only hope that he could be convinced to stay in school for a little longer yet.

"He'll do well, I think," John said composedly, pausing to refill Amelia's cup of tea. "Quick on his feet, and fair with the animals- and Green Gables has good soil. I shouldn't be surprised to see him ready to take on the farm in just a few years."

"Will he have enough experience, by then?" Amelia asked, worried; and John shrugged kindly.

"I should think so. Folks around here will be happy to help him learn- the Harrison fellow has taught him a lot, already. It'll be a load of Marilla's mind, as Dora gets older. She wants them to have a proper future."

* * *

When breakfast was done, and the couple had returned to their room to finish dressing for church, Anne seated herself on her husband's lap on the bed, her clear, grey eyes studying him intently. At her question, Gilbert hesitated.

"I didn't want to say anything to them, just yet."

"Why, Gil?" she asked softly. "Do you think that they would be disappointed in you?"

"I- I think they'll assume that it's for the wrong reasons."

"But if you told them-"

"I told _you_ that, and _you_ still think-"

Anne placed her fingers over his mouth, pausing to smile at the feel of his stubbly jaw, and the lips that so generously loved her. "I want you to be happy. Not just for now, but for our whole life. I only want to be sure that this is truly what you want- and I feel as if there is a part of you that is still undecided."

He paused to nip her finger teasingly. "You don't learn, do you, Mrs Blythe?" She laughed, and he let out a sigh that ruffled her loose curls. "Look, the only thing that makes me question it is the fear of disappointing you- my parents. And Uncle Dave. I used to talk about following him into medicine when I was young- not that I knew if it could really happen."

"Well, he will be here this afternoon," Anne said gently, snuggling into his chest. "I am very curious to meet him, you know. I remember seeing him visit while we were still in school together."

Gilbert's brows lowered. "You've never met him before? How is that possible?"

Anne smiled at him. "I know your uncle and aunt from next door well; they certainly discovered us on their property enough, during our summers together. I met Aunt Mary Maria last summer-"

"Hmm. Have I apologised to you about that yet?"

"And of course, I know your parents quite well." The list was finished quite innocently, however the fingertips that brushed over the front of his shirt made quite a different impression.

"I think you know their son a little better."

"A little," she admitted airily, before breaking off with a yelp as Gilbert shifted her onto the mattress, his twisted smile huge as he loomed over her, delighting in the red-gold curls against his pillow. He lowered himself until his lips brushed her own, smiling when her arms wrapped around his waist. "I know when you are thinking about this, here, between us," she murmured, stroking his jaw. "I know when your mind is on some complex algorithm instead of your dinner- and when you're cross with me for using your pencil for story notes. And I know exactly the moment you start to wish that the two of us were alone."

His laugh was triumphant, as he bent to kiss the miraculous creature who was his wife. "I think I might need to show you how well I know _you_ , Mrs Blythe."

His low voice made Anne smile dreamily, and she met his lips with equal fervour, her breath catching at the broad hand that slid up her side, the words of passionate adoration he spoke against her skin. She paused only to giggle when the brown, curly head was raised up long enough to check his watch on the side table, before launching himself at her and making them forget all about the need to get themselves ready for the day.

* * *

A short time later, as Amelia was coming out of her own bedroom, she walked toward the stairs in time to hear yet another soft laugh and murmured voices coming from Gilbert's closed door, and turned from the landing with a peculiar look on her face. She made it down the stairs in record time, to meet her now curious husband.

"Are they ready, yet? You told them that Marilla would be stopping by any minute now, didn't you?"

"Oh, I imagine they will be ready, soon enough," she said faintly. "Best leave them to it."

John caught her expression, and the high colour on her cheeks, before looking to the stairs in sudden clarity. He attempted to keep the smile off his face for the sake of his wife and cleared his throat. "They're a married couple, Millie, it's not so strange-"

Her brown eyes shot daggers at him, and she held up a finger that had been enough to make Gilbert quail when he was younger. "They are getting _ready_ , Jonathon Blythe. That's _all_. We'd best be doing the same."

He choked back an uneasy laugh,and nodded soberly. "Just so, Millie."

She stomped back to her kitchen and began cleaning the pans with some unnecessary force, and he sagged back against the door frame, chuckling. He eventually straightened up at the sound of a buggy pulling up outside, and placed his old cap on his head to go and meet it. Marilla sometimes spoke of Anne as if she would always be a girl, something that tickled him immensely- he'd seen it in Millie, too. Both highly rational creatures- and yet underneath they were both two mothers who stubbornly held out against believing that their children had grown up.


	36. Chapter 36, Christmas Wishes

**Chapter 36**

* * *

The Blythe and Cuthbert buggies arrived at the old churchyard at the same time that Christmas morning, travelling together along newly-cleared roads. Davy had insisted on Anne riding with them, and Gilbert contented himself with watching his wife in the first buggy, attempting to split her attention between Davy and Mrs Lynde. She was adorable this morning, wearing a dark, fir green dress that made her seem part of the woods herself, as she walked outside into the clear morning. He grinned at the sight of her winter hat bobbing in the distance- something he now knew to be a _postilion_ , from a hat-trimming conversation with Phil that had almost killed him of boredom. A ruffled Anne had then sent him out with an errand, reminding him severely that clothes were _very_ important, indeed.

Gilbert leapt down at the fence to help Marilla secure the horse, before making his wife laugh at the possessive way he took hold of her waist, kissing her firmly when she was down on solid ground- regardless of the people watching from the church steps. He grinned at the eye-roll Davy gave, only to meet Anne's amused look.

"Davy has never been very good at sharing, I'm afraid. I tend to forget that he won't be a child for much longer," she said in an undertone. "Marilla says that he is growing quite moody and unpredictable, lately."

"Ah." At Anne's raised eyebrow, Gilbert grinned. "It's normal, sweetheart- he's almost thirteen. It's a rough age for boys."

"It's no picnic for girls either, dearest," she retorted, and he laughed.

"Never said it was. Although one _might_ wonder if the shocking violence you displayed toward me at that time-"

Anne smiled at him sweetly. "Are you quite sure that you want to continue with that thought, my darling?"

He chuckled, placing her hand in the crook of his arm, and moving toward the doors of the church. "Not really, no. Although I do love it when your eyes snap like that."

Aside from a disgruntled look when Anne joined her husband in his family pew, Davy was relatively well behaved through the service. He livened up when he discovered a line of ants crawling along the top of the pew in front of him- however, he was mindful not to cause a disturbance in church. Instead, he happily watched them crawl their way into Mrs Elder Thomas' hat.

As the congregation stood for the opening hymn, Anne couldn't help but wander in her imagination as she looked around the small building. Prissy Andrews was home for the holidays- Mrs Priscilla _Evans_ , as Mrs Harmon pointed out smugly. Her niece had married very well, indeed- as her daughter was set to do this summer if Diana's information was correct. Mrs Evans was accompanied by an adorable toddler, the very image of the young gentleman beside her. Mr Harrison was standing beside his wife, tugging at his collar, and looking mutinous when she shook her head at him reprovingly. Anne had to suppress a small smile. He did loathe his Sunday dress- and yet for Mrs Harrison's sake, he would comply. Neighbours Anne had known since she came to Avonlea, some of whom had known Gilbert as an infant- the very children she had taught, now three years older, and taking their first steps into the adult world. Mrs Lynde had told her that Barbara Shaw was trying out for the Entrance, this year.

Anne's gaze then connected with Diana's across the aisle, and the bright flash of a smile from her friend warmed her heart as it always had. She was standing beside her Fred, unconsciously placing her gloved hand on the belly that she had confided excitedly to Anne seemed to have actually grown a mite! Minnie May had said scornfully that it likely just cake, but that couldn't be it, because she hadn't _eaten_ any cake…. She looked wonderfully happy, though- and Fred was fairly beaming.

The faces in the choir had changed as well. There was a new organist there; little Mr Baldwin had needed to give it up, so Marilla said- his poor hands were too twisted by rheumatism to continue. The new reverend was competent, Rachel had said with a sniff, although it would be several years before he would be forgiven for not being Josiah Allen. Anne couldn't help a little sigh, then. Mrs Allen had written to her shortly before they had left for Avonlea, saying that she hoped she would be able to visit in the summertime. The two little girls she and Reverend Allen had welcomed into the world were growing old enough to travel, and she spoke longingly of returning to Avonlea to visit.

Anne was paying little attention to her surroundings and found her hand being tugged, reminding her to sit down. Gilbert gave her a sly wink, and she blushed slightly, knowing she had been found out. He left her to her musing then, his arm somehow managing to sneak around her waist with a playful squeeze.

Anne's letter to Mrs Allen on the occasion of their marriage had been a decidedly difficult one to write, twelve months ago. Gilbert had suggested that they simply announce it as they had to others, indicating that they were simply impulsive; however, a worked-up Anne had insisted on earnest confession to the Allens. The Reverend and his wife had been both wise counsellors and loving friends, and Anne was unwilling to bend the truth as they had needed to do with so many others. The result was an unintentionally hilarious letter written by both Anne and Gilbert, one that broke the poor minister completely- collapsed on his sofa in laughter, his wife wiping tears from her eyes.

"Oh, the poor darlings," she had choked before dissolved into giggles as well, before sobering up, and settling down to write a long and very understanding epistle back.

Anne smiled, remembering the way Gilbert had teased her at her relief when they received her warm, congratulatory letter. Mrs Allen had reminded them both how well they were suited and how much they had already accomplished together, before encouraging them to make the most of this time before they would finish college together. Perhaps this summer, she would be able to assure her in person that they had.

All around her was change, Anne realised. Avonlea had grown, even as they had. It was strange- there was a restlessness in her heart that surfaced every now and then- one that Gilbert occasionally succumbed to as well. Being so close to the end with five months to go, into a future that as yet was shapeless. She swallowed, knowing the work they had ahead of them- and she had not yet allowed herself to dismiss the possibility of medical school. Gilbert may change his mind- and she needed to be prepared for that, despite the fledgeling dreams of a little house near Phil, that her imagination had already begun to create.

Before she quite realised, the minister had finished his sermon, and she found herself being guided to stand beside Gilbert, who shot her a little questioning look. She drew in a deep breath, shaking her head to clear it of her abstraction. There was time enough for decisions to be made- for now, she would enjoy the time with their loved ones.

* * *

People seemed to relish the opportunity to remain talking after the service, and Anne stood to chat with Diana while Dora and Minnie May giggled about the young men standing by the fence. Anne hid a little smile at the look of faint trepidation on Dora's face, recognizing that she had no intention of talking with the creatures- not yet, at least. Minnie May had no such fear, and several young men were following the sight of the pink bows surrounding the careful curls she had cultivated on her head.

Nettie Andrews soon came to talk to Diana, and Anne again was hit with a feeling of unreality- on her arm was Billy's firstborn child, a round, solemn infant who stared at Anne with unblinking, dark eyes. Who was Nettie talking about, now? Herb Spencer was engaged to a young lady from Carmody. Diana gave Anne a curious look, not immediately recognizing the name.

Anne remembered him, of course- the man Ruby had loved so. Anne mustered a smile, then. He was a good man- he deserved to be happy. Just then, a harassed Nettie had realised that she had forgotten something and turned to deposit her baby into Anne's arms after Diana shied away from him in horror. Anne couldn't keep her laughter contained at this.

"You are having a baby, dearest, you really must learn to hold them at some point."

Diana screwed up her nose, in mistrust. "He's staring again. It's so strange."

Anne adjusted him on her hip, chuckling. "It would be much stranger if he wasn't, Di. Babies watch- it's how they learn."

"No, he looks deeply suspicious about something."

Anne gave the little boy a tickle under his chin, and she was enchanted to see him break into a sudden, toothless smile. "Oh, look at him! He's perfectly content. Don't you think that he favours Jane a little?"

Diana looked at him dubiously. "Perhaps a _very_ little…"

Gilbert had been making his way through the crowd with Fred, and he blinked in stupefaction when he finally reached Anne's side, to see her holding a dark-haired infant.

"I'm fairly certain you didn't have that when I left you."

Anne laughed, and the baby's smile broke out again. "This is Billy and Nettie's little boy, Gil. His name is Angus, would you believe."

Gilbert's eyes twinkled at her mischievously, and he raised an eyebrow as he prodded the fat little hand that clutched Anne's finger tightly. "Hmm. So that makes him Angus Andrews?"

"Oh, it's much worse than that," Diana piped up. "They named him after his maternal grandfather, too. Adam Blewitt."

Anne looked at her friend in shock. "They named him _Angus Adam Andrews_?" She exhaled and gave the little fellow a droll look. "That is quite a name to live up to, little man."

"And just think, in another life he could have been your son, Anne," Diana said in unholy glee, causing Gilbert to unceremoniously choke, as Fred thumped his back. "You did hear about that, didn't you, Gilbert?"

"Yes, I- I err, did."

Anne gave Angus Adam a roguish smile. "I think you have just the parents you were meant to it, don't you, little love?"

At this point, Nettie rushed up, her breathing heavy as she took her son from Anne. "Oh, goodness, I am sorry; the minister's wife is such a talker! I do hope Billy has the wagon ready, the family will be there for lunch almost as soon as we arrive home. We must go. I suppose it will be you and Gilbert having one, soon enough, won't you? Mark my words, though; there aren't enough hours in the day when they come along."

With this ominous-sounding prophesy, she left the young couples behind her, all looking mildly discomposed. Diana told Anne that she would see them when they came for dinner the following day, and was swept up with the Wright connection within a minute- leaving Anne and Gilbert alone once more.

There was a startling look on Anne's face that made Gilbert pause, and his voice was soft.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

She shook her head, summoning a smile. "I- it's nothing, Gil."

"You'll have to do better than that, love." He gave her a curious glance, then. "Do you think anyone will need us for a little while? I wouldn't mind stretching my legs before everyone gets to the farm."

The couple were sent off with an indulgent look from Gilbert's parents as they turned to walk home together, and Anne let out a breath of relief when they walked into the wood, and the silence of the winter's day surrounded them. The canopy of the Haunted wood had kept the forest floor clear of snow through the night, and the trees were a welcome respite from the wind.

"How many times do you think we have walked these paths together?" Anne asked absently.

"Countless." He sighed, his look contented. "Ahhh, this is what we needed- just to be alone for a bit." There was silence for a time, and he turned to see that Anne was walking along, deep in thought, and reached out for her gloved hand. She gave him an odd, half-glance.

"I was asked several times this morning if we had any news of our own."

"You mean, _other_ than our imminent graduation?"

She turned to him, with a wry look. "I don't believe that was what they were referring to."

He gave her a wink and grinned at her. "Face it, we're boring now, sweetheart. The wedding is over, the scandal clearly disproved- now they want us to procreate to maintain their interest."

Anne wrinkled her pretty nose in disgust. "Ugh! You scientists do strip the romance out of life. And it's so unimaginative. Do people have no concept of what university entails?"

"They don't. You know that," he said patiently. "College was our goal- and we're almost there. And I don't see why it should bother you- their opinions have no bearing on us."

Anne seemed to grow even crosser at this comment. "We have this once-in-a-lifetime chance to finish our education- to decide what we want to do with our lives. Rushing into parenthood would be foolish-"

Gilbert swung her around to stop her under a tree, suddenly serious. "Hold on, Anne-girl, who said anything about rushing into that?"

Her grey eyes were glittering, and she scowled. "We don't know where we will end up living. We don't know what career path you will take, and we need to keep the option open for you to study if you wish to." He opened his mouth to comment on this, however, something was odd about her argument- and he decided to wait as she ranted passionately. "How many women would have sacrificed anything for the opportunity that we girls now have? It's not right to squander that responsibility for personal gratification- and whatever joys may come to us later in life, it won't be what it is now- don't we need to take this time to make the most of our education?"

Gilbert straightened up then, his look stern. "Look, wherever you are getting this from, it isn't coming from me. I specifically said that we would wait, if you remember."

She slumped against the tree trunk, her grey eyes filled with turmoil. "I know that."

"Then where is it coming from? Not the gossiping old bats back there, surely."

There was a pause then, and a dispirited voice he hardly recognised. "It's from _me_."

Now utterly bewildered, he grabbed onto the branch beside them to study her face. "This isn't one of your most rational moments, love."

At this, Anne pushed past him in anger, forcing him to jog to catch up with her as she stomped down the path. "No. It _isn't_ , Gilbert. It's completely illogical, and not at all what you would expect of a good Redmond student. I _know_ that." She stopped cold, and rounded on him, a suspicious glistening in her grey eyes. " _I_ am the one who is wishing that I could tell them- tell _you_ right now that you and I are having a baby, a beautiful little baby all of our own." She didn't miss the way Gilbert only narrowly avoided walking into a nearby tree, his mouth gaping in shock.

" _Anne_ -"

"Yes, I _know_ ," she said crossly, folding her arms. "It's selfish and thoughtless and foolish, and not at _all_ something I thought I would be feeling, only a year after our wedding, and just months before we are due to finish our degrees."

With a prayer for sanity, Gilbert pulled her down to sit on a convenient, fallen log. "You- you actually want this? _Now_?"

"Yes!" she shot back before her shoulders dropped in defeat. "Well- that is- well, I do. But we can't."

He sighed, a look of wonder on his face. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

She swallowed, her eyes on the hand that still held her own. "I- I suppose ever since we left Avonlea in June, last year." She looked up in some fear when he bounded to his feet, walking a few steps away from her. When he spun around, she refused to meet his eyes, fearing his reaction. "The night of Diana's wedding- the night we spent by the pond- it changed everything, for me," she muttered, her cheeks flushed with more than cold. "I went away from you the next day finally knowing that I was in love- and our future became so real, and vivid. I started to see who we would become." She broke off and sighed as he knelt down in front of her, his eyes unspeakably tender as he ran his hands up her arms. "I wasn't planning on saying anything to you about it. I know that it can't happen now. We- we have so much before us. And I feel so guilty for even thinking about such a thing, right now. What would the girls say to me if they knew?"

"I imagine that they would support you, just like they always have," he said gently.

She seemed to be wrestling then, her lovely face clouded. "We fought so hard to get here."

"Well, we've almost made it, love. And we're not pregnant." He bent down to catch her eyes, a wry look on his face. "Not even close."

Anne seemed to recover some of her poise, and she shot him a naughty look. "I don't know about you, Gilbert Blythe, but it feels a lot closer than it ever did before."

He gave a little snort of laughter and sighed as he pulled her into his arms, and she nestled into his coat lapels. "I know. I want to throw caution to the winds, too. But- I- I don't want to take any opportunities from you, sweetheart. To finish college- even to write the way you always wanted to."

Anne snuggled into him, her look wistful. "I told you; it's _me_ wanting it. It isn't like we have the time to think of this, at college- and I know that it is more sensible to wait. But here, people are moving on with their lives, and I wonder- I wonder what it would be like to really begin _ours_."

Gilbert was quiet for a time, before pulling back to study her face. "Anne, if I don't choose medical school-"

Anne pulled away, now visibly upset. "I don't want you making this decision based on an impulsive want of mine."

He exhaled, rubbing his face. "I'm not. I only want to do what is best for you and me- and for our future family." There was a slight pause, and Gilbert gave a wry chuckle. "Can I tell you something? I know that we weren't always on the same page, but ever since last Christmas, and the fiasco _that_ was, I've had a secret fear of us having to break the other type of news to our families _this_ Christmas."

"A secret _fear_?" Anne challenged, making him laugh sheepishly.

"Oh, not the baby itself- just having to admit to Marilla and my parents that we'd jumped ahead of ourselves again."

There was a peal of laughter from her, then. "So you'd be fine with us becoming parents in our little Mushroom right now- only you don't want to tell people back home about it."

"Tell me you don't see some romance in that, love."

There was a pause, and Anne's eyes were soft. "I do." Her cheeks flushed then, and she was silent for a few minutes, while Gilbert waited patiently. "Well- we haven't done that."

"No." He gave her the warm smile that was for her alone and bent to kiss her forehead. "Anne, there's no point worrying about this. Wanting a baby- or I should say, _our_ baby-" here, his cheeks flushed brightly in the cool wind- "It doesn't make you any less ambitious, or a bad co-ed, and it certainly doesn't mean you aren't grateful for being where you are. We're just- a little ahead of ourselves."

"I know. We're already ahead of our classmates," Anne said softly. "And yet we're behind where a married couple would be expected to be at home."

He stood up then, pulling her to her feet and turning them toward the farm, her hand tucked in his tightly. "We've got our own path to walk- and we'll get to all of that, in time. Pioneers are supposed to be struck with madness, aren't they? That's really what it comes down to. We're pioneers."

Anne laughed, feeling lighter inside. "It _was_ rather mad to propose to a co-ed who fell on top of you in a medical tent."

"Oh, you're far madder than I am," he teased, as they sauntered down the path. "You said _yes_."

* * *

When Anne and Gilbert finally arrived back at the house, waiting for them all were Gilbert's great uncle and aunt, freshly arrived themselves. The couple were beaming as they embraced Gilbert and his young wife, exclaiming at how well they looked, and how proud they were of the two college students. Anne found herself included in the conversation as Uncle David asked after her classes, and Aunt Melanie spoke of their own time in Kingsport many years earlier, and the small town in which her husband had practised for over thirty years. Their grown son was a surgeon in Ontario, with a family of his own- he had once or twice suggested coming back to work with his father, however, it seemed unlikely, at this point. Gilbert's aunt took Anne's hand lovingly, inviting them both to come to Four Winds in the summertime; and to be introduced at once to Marilla and the twins.

Christmas gifts were taken into the parlour to opened later that day, and Amelia soon had the women bustling about setting tables in the dining room, with great platters of food were jostling for position on the table. Davy grumbled a little at being placed at a 'children's' table- that was, until Gilbert plonked himself and Anne down there, and it became the table to be. Dora sat by Anne's side at dinner quietly, overwhelmed by the noise of the small room, and the couple were kept in stitches at Davy's account of the Christmas concert a week earlier. He'd been cast as an angel, apparently- along with Milty. Gilbert tried without success to keep from laughing until his wife muttered that perhaps there was some wishful thinking on the part of the teacher. After that, he had to leave the table in order to sober up, much to the consternation of his mother.

John insisted on taking the children outside after dinner to see a new batch of kittens in the barn, shrugging innocently at the expression on Marilla's face when Dora pleaded to keep one- or three- in the milk shed. Gilbert kept them company, instantly noting the wistful look on Marilla's face as she watched Anne float around the kitchen assisting his mother. Amelia had noticed the same, and sent her guests out to the parlour, promising to bring them a cup of tea, by and by; as Anne caught Marilla up on their news in the warm room.

"Phil is to be married in June, once college finishes- Jo is presently at work on the manse in Patterson Street. Gilbert and I think that we will most likely travel there straight from Redmond, and then come home to Avonlea after we are done."

"And how long is the wedding after your graduation?"

Anne snuggled into the sofa, her smile warm. "Two weeks, I believe. We did talk about coming home first- however, we may need that time to close up the house properly, even if it is only for the summer."

Marilla looked up from her customary knitting, her expression carefully neutral. "I suppose the two of you will need to begin making decisions, soon."

"We _will_ need to, yes," Anne replied slowly. "We still don't know-"

"I wasn't looking for a confession from you, Anne. You've got some months, yet."

Anne gave her a relieved look. "We will let you all know as soon as we decide where we are headed- I must say, this feeling of limbo is extremely frustrating."

"I rather thought the two of you would see the adventure in that," Marilla said slyly.

Anne laughed then, her cheeks flushed. "You would think so- however a little more certainty would be nice."

"Are you planning to work?"

Anne instantly saw the real concern in Marilla's question, and her smile faltered. "I- we don't know, really. Gilbert and I are working on that now. We have a few ideas. And- I'm writing something. My professor thinks that it might be ready to send it out to some publishers."

Marilla looked up, her eyes wide. "Really, Anne?"

She gave a small laugh. "Really. I've been working on it for the past few months at home, while Gilbert has been tutoring. Around my own schoolwork, of course."

"I imagine he knows about it, though."

"Oh, of course. He's seen a few story-related fits of despair."

Marilla shook her head, with an amused smile. "I thought you might have grown out of that."

"Oh, dear me, no. I don't seem to be able to separate myself from it at all- and I do take it all so personally," Anne said, with evident cheerfulness.

Marilla gave a comfortable chuckle. "I think your reaction to the Baking Powder story taught us all that."

"Will I never live down that wretched competition?" Anne moaned, making the older woman laugh. "My poor Averil! Professor Winston encouraged me to chalk it up to experience, and to write something better."

"So what is it, then?"

Anne smiled. "You might recognise some parts of the story. It's about a girl," she said lightly. "And she is a thoroughly imperfect one- one who moves to a new place, and makes all kinds of mistakes, and has many loving people to guide her."

"I seem to remember a girl like that," Marilla said fondly. "And what happens to her?"

Anne laughed. "She doesn't drown a mouse in syrup, or flavour a cake with liniment, at least- she has a whole set of adventures and lessons to learn all of her own. Her name is Megan- and I have loved writing her. She is surrounded by love as she grows- and that, thanks to you and Matthew, is very much what I know."

There was a pause then as Marilla took Anne's hand in her own, her lips tight with suppressed emotion. She took the time to gather herself, before a smile was allowed through. "I'm very proud, you know. Matthew would be, too."

"I owe it to both of you," Anne said simply, and she smiled, hearing her husband call out to Davy outside. "And to Gilbert, as well- and Diana, the girls, Miss Stacey, dear Mrs Allen, and Mrs Lynde-"

Marilla's eyes twinkled. "Rachel will be thrilled to hear that. Well, they say that it takes a village to raise a child."

The pair talked undisturbed for some time, allowing the pain of the distance to begin to dissipate. Anne told Marilla of the changes that had come to the little home in Kingsport, and the studies that would consume the next six months- and Marilla watched the changes that moved over Anne's expressive face, smiling at the evident happiness there. Time had not stood still at Green Gables, either, and she shared the plans she had for the property - with the children growing older, she had begun to turn her mind to what would need to happen to make the farm profitable again.

* * *

Gilbert stood on the back veranda as this conversation was taking place, a contented sigh erupting at the familiar sight and smell of home. The afternoon was crisp, and the scent of damp pines was in the air; and instead of empty, grey streets, there were the limitless hills and valleys he had grown up with. He could hear the tea trolley rattling on the wooden floors, and the sound of his father shaking his boots off at the front door, conversing with someone- probably Uncle Dave, who had been ushered out to see the new horse. With a slight smile, he sat down on the back step, enjoying the peace and quiet for a time. This was shattered some minutes later by a startled holler from the barn, one that had Gilbert leaping to his feet to investigate. What he saw next doubled him over in laughter.

Davy was perched on the top of the ladder that led to the hayloft, whilst his mother's gander sat at the bottom hissing indignantly.

"Need a hand there?"

Davy scowled at him, inching further up. "Don't see why you're laughing; you're down on the floor with it."

Gilbert by this time had a handful of grain and tossed it away from the ladder. The goose glared at him malevolently, however, he followed the trail into a small pen, leaving the rest of the space clear. He moved back to the ladder, grinning.

"That's Hank. He's evil- but greedy. He's likely mad that you didn't offer him something in the first place. Mother's the only one he doesn't dare sass." He put a foot on the ladder, his expression thoughtful. "I haven't been up here in years- are you going up or down?"

"If down means tea with the girls, I'm better off here."

Gilbert shook his head as the tow-headed boy disappeared, and climbed up the ladder himself, testing the rungs dubiously. It held, though. He looked around with interest as he scrambled into the loft. One of his old jobs had been to keep it tidy- evidently, he'd been at college for several years, with hay strewn over the floor, and cobwebs looming in the windows. This was how it should be, Gilbert thought lazily, flopping onto a loose pile of grass. The space within was sweet and warm- he really should bring Anne up here, later. There was a smart boot by his ear that belonged to the younger boy, and he nudged it playfully.

"New shoes?"

"I wasn't allowed to wear my comfortable ones visiting, was I? Your dad got to wear his old ones."

Gilbert snorted. "All of Dad's are old- except the ones he wears to church. And what are you doing away from all of the food?"

"I've lost my appetite."

Gilbert came up on one elbow, his look stern, now. "What's going on, Davy?"

"Nothing," the boy said sullenly.

"You're usually happy to see us come for the holidays- and it's Christmas. What's got you so worked up?"

Davy kicked a rock near his foot and jumped as an angry yowl came from one of the haystacks. "Steady on, it's just a cat. They're everywhere," Gilbert said, dismissively. There was a pause, and Gilbert only raised an eyebrow at him.

"Marilla won't let me quit school," Davy muttered eventually.

"And ten points go to Anne," Gilbert said, under his breath. "Alright. Is that so very bad?"

"They're nothing but a bunch of babies, there. All the other boys are leaving."

At this, Gilbert snorted. "I seriously doubt that."

"Your dad said he didn't go past thirteen," Davy said rebelliously.

Gilbert scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to face the almost-teenager. "Dad had to leave school when his father died. He and my grandfather- whom I never knew- had to run the farm between them. It's not the same thing."

"It is so. Who do you think's running Green Gables?"

Gilbert blinked at the harshness in his tone and answered patiently. "Davy, your schooling is important. Marilla has everything under control, right now. Everyone needs an education. For example, how will you know if someone is cheating you if you don't know how to do basic mathematics?"

The boy seemed to be swelling with fury and glared at Gilbert. "They just want me to be like _you_."

"Whoa, now! No one has ever said that."

"They don't need to! Mrs Lynde keeps telling me that I'll have to be the man of the family soon, but they won't let me do anything about it. I've just got to be a good boy, and learn my spelling." He seethed away in silence then, while Gilbert stared at him.

"You think you need to leave school now so that you can take care of everyone?"

"Yes!" he spat out. "I don't want to go to college! You just _had_ to go there, and now Anne's there because of you-"

Gilbert reined in his anger at that comment, his voice calm. "Hold on, now, Davy, Anne's there because she _wants_ to be. She didn't go there for me."

"She only said she was going after we found out that _you_ were. And, last year, I overheard Marilla tell Mrs Lynde that Anne stayed for _you_ ," he retorted, and Gilbert gave a frustrated sigh.

"Look, Marilla meant something different than you think," he stated, his voice firm. "I'll explain that another time. We're at Redmond right now because we _want_ to be. They don't want you to be like us- they just want you to grow up a bit." Davy went to get up in anger, and Gilbert grabbed his shoulder. "You're just thirteen," he said calmly. "When I was your age, I was away with Dad in Alberta. We brought him back home when he was better, and he sent me right back to school. I didn't want to be there. I'd missed three years, there were little kids who were further ahead than I was. And when I got there, there was this skinny, red-headed girl, with the brightest eyes I'd ever seen who wouldn't give me the time of day- who was just as behind as I was- and she was so thankful to be getting an education. It made me want to work harder to keep up with her."

Davy scowled again. "But that's just Anne. She _likes_ school."

Gilbert shrugged, a small smile on his face. "She wants to be the very best version of herself that she can be. So she wanted to keep learning. That's- that's rare Davy. No one expects you to follow us to college- but they want you to be the best version of you that you can be too. If that's a farmer, fine. But be a _smart_ one- be one that goes into it prepared- you'll have a household to support, one day."

Davy heaved a sigh. "I know. Marilla and Dora- and Mrs Lynde, I suppose," he said glumly. "I'd look after Anne if I ever needed to, too."

Gilbert chuckled. "I know you would, Davy-boy- but that's my job, thank heavens. You'll have your own family to look after- so will Dora, I hope. And no one expects you to do it alone- you'll grow into it all. Trust me, Marilla has things well under control. Give yourself a bit of time to grow up- enjoy _not_ being in charge right now. And Anne and I will be there when you need us. "

"Even in Kingsport?"

"Even in Kingsport."

There was a pause, and Davy grimaced. "I guess I could stay for one-"

" _Two_ …"

" _Two more years_ ," he said, with an unearthly groan. "I'll be the only one left."

"You won't. You think the mothers of your classmates want them at home underfoot?"

The pair talked for a while longer, and by the time Gilbert suggested that it was getting colder, Davy was looking far more cheerful. He couldn't help but grin as they walked the path from the barn to the house. Thirteen was confusing enough without the half-listened-to conversations between the adults- he knew that Marilla had been talking about plans for the farm for several months.

"So what are _you_ doing after you two finish college? You're not going to take over this farm, are you?"

His resigned voice let Gilbert know that Davy already knew that answer to that. "No. And- I don't exactly know, yet."

"Does Anne know you don't know?"

Gilbert snorted. "Do you really think I could keep that from her?"

Davy gave the older man a considering look. "Nah. She'd have it out of you in no time. But you've still got to have a job."

Gilbert pushed the boy's hat over his eyes, smirking. "Of course I do. But we don't know where- or what- and it won't be for a few months yet."

"Really? Because Mrs Lynde says that you'll end up having a baby any time now-"

At this, Gilbert turned, his look cross. "Okay. No more sentences that start with something that Mrs Lynde says."

"But she said she was _sure_. And Marilla-"

"Look, Anne and I will tell you where we are going as soon as we know," he said, now thoroughly discomposed. "And as to us having a baby, no one knows anything about that, but Anne and myself-"

The look of horror on Davy's face would have been comical if Gilbert hadn't understood immediately how his words had been interpreted. " _You mean you got her pregnant?_ _By doing that- that THING?_ "

With a wild glance at the sitting room window, Gilbert clamped a hand over the boy's mouth, his teeth clenched. "Davy, we aren't- we _haven't_ \- I just mean that it's _our_ business, not anyone else's. Not my parents, Marilla, or Mrs Lynde, or anyone else who _isn't_ Anne or I. Alright?"

Davy shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "Alright." He shuddered and the shot Gilbert a cross glance as he turned to walk inside. "And by the way- if what you told me last year is really what happens- that's _disgusting_."

Gilbert was left standing on the steps, laughing. He looked out at the late afternoon sky and rubbed his face in exhaustion, remembering all of the years he had spent loving and waiting for Anne. Thirteen was still so very young.

"How about we revisit this conversation in a couple of year's time," Gilbert muttered, his mouth twitching into a smile.

* * *

It was late when the Green Gables folk left for the evening, and Anne and Gilbert stood on the veranda with his parents to farewell the family. The older couple were the first to go inside, to make sure that David and Melanie were settled, and Gilbert slipped his arms around Anne's waist as they watched the lamp on the buggy move down the hill. "It's nice to get some time with you, at last," he murmured, and his wife began to chuckle.

"I've been here all day- however, I know that you mean _alone_ ," she teased, before falling silent, listening to the wind in the firs. "So what did I miss?" she asked sleepily. "You were with Davy for awhile."

Gilbert pressed a kiss to the top of her red head and smiled. "Oh, nothing we haven't already heard from everyone else. What are we going to do after college, and are we having a baby?"

Anne laughed then. "What a coincidence! I had the same conversation several times over." There was a silence between them then, and Anne sighed, leaning back against him. "We just don't know what is around this bend in the road, do we," she said, in true Anne philosophy.

"No. But I _do_ know that I want to enjoy the scenery with you as we go."

She nodded, glancing up at him with a sparkle in her eyes. "I agree. Gil?"

"Mmm?"

"I think we should make the most of our time alone, don't you?"

He grinned as he scooped her up from the steps, and turned to go inside. He felt her laughter against his collar and headed for the stairs, stopping briefly on the landing to press a swift kiss to her lips.

Whatever was ahead for them, it was going to be worth it, with her in his arms.

* * *

 **I _did_ say that this would be wrapped up in 40 chapters...**

 **Would you believe 43?**

 **Love to all, Cate.**


	37. Chapter 37, Seed to Sow

**Welcome to April! Four chapter in four months- and I'm so annoyed that it's taking me this long! And no, this is not an April Fool's joke- just this story taking its own sweet time to write itself. Believe me, the frustration is even worse at my end. Thanks go to Kwak and Carrots, you've both been in my corner since this all began, and I'm so grateful to be working alongside you- and to Lizzy, FkaJ and Alinya, and the myriad of other writers and readers who have been so cool. Ros, you're a champion! You've been great, all of you who have read, followed, commented and messaged- you've given me the confidence I never would have had in my own writing if I'd never tried this. Thank you for being so patient.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 37**

The Christmas holiday had taken an unexpected turn when Anne came down with a head cold some days after Christmas. She and Gilbert had moved to Green Gables as planned, however, it was only a day before the coughing and sneezing girl was confined to their bedroom, which became the centre of the house for the time they were there. The little white room hosted the family morning, noon and night, and Gilbert had to shake his head at the collection of chairs that collected around their bed, as a never-ending supply of tea and company was brought to Anne's side. She would always collect people around her, he supposed.

Uncle Dave and Aunt Katherine came to visit before they left Avonlea, reassuring Gilbert breezily that there was no need to check on her- she was fine. There were tonics made from both kitchens and enforced by Marilla, and Anne sat like a queen against her pillows, laughing at the antics of the children, and the war of kindness that presently existed between the two households. Gilbert's mother visited daily, and Marilla would bring her knitting into the bedroom by her bed, watching her girl from the rocking chair with a tender smile she didn't often allow to show. A laughing Anne confided in Gilbert that everyone seemed quite happy to have her in one place- and he suspected it was true. Dora brought tea to the little room, and her needlework to show Anne, shyly telling her of the subjects they were studying at school. Davy's big boots clattered up and down the halls, calling back messages to the couple that made Mrs Lynde complain about her poor ears.

Gilbert would allow himself to be dragged from the bedside from time to time, however most mornings he could be found in the chair beside the bed, a textbook in his lap, and a cup of tea beside him. At times he snoozed with Anne; at others, he read aloud to her, despite her hoarse protests that equations were meant to be enjoyed silently.

On this particular afternoon, rain was falling outside the window, turning the frozen ground into something that even Davy dared not cross. Anne was at present buried under a mound of pillows and blankets, sound asleep after a morning of constant company- and as Gilbert looked up from his books, he had the sudden realisation that the two of them were beyond exhausted. The senior year hadn't been an easy one to navigate, he knew; and since they had returned to Redmond- well, sleep had not exactly been high on their list of priorities, with the increase in workload.

Not to mention the _other_ distractions between them…

"Gilbert?"

He looked up to see a hand blindly pawing around the covers, and chuckled. "You couldn't be bothered to sit up and talk to me?"

"I _can't_ ," she complained, inexplicably, and he began to laugh, seeing that she had twisted herself into the sheets and was stuck fast. He had her untangled in a minute, and Anne sat up with a yawn, making him smile at the adorable way she rubbed her eyes, red curls coming from the loosening braid down her back. She sighed as he smoothed the blankets back over her and handed her a glass of water.

"Weren't you going to the Wright's house this afternoon?" she asked drowsily.

He shrugged as she sipped the water, before flopping down beside her on the big bed. "Fred called past an hour ago and cancelled on me. Said his father needed some help this afternoon. There's a note from Diana for you on the dresser, she wants us to call around for supper the night before we go back. She wanted you to have time to get better first, and didn't want to miss us."

Anne was silent as she watched Gilbert roll over to pick up his latest essay from beside the bed. He was scratching notes in the margins as her eyes traced the lines on his forehead and the still ink-stained fingers from that morning.

"Gil, I've been thinking-"

"Hmm?"

"We're very tired."

There was a pause as he scribbled out a line, not looking up from the paper. "Well, we're already in bed, love."

" _You're_ very tired."

At this, a bemused Gilbert turned to her, brown eyebrows high. "Again, I'm lying down. What more do you want?"

She shifted the covers back with another yawn to reach for her robe. "We need to rest better," she said thickly. "Haven't you noticed how tired everyone is becoming, back home?"

"Which ' _everyone_ '?"

Anne huffed impatiently. " _All_ of us. We have finals and plans to make for the future. Phil has a wedding to prepare for, and her mother is hounding her constantly about it, despite the exams that come first. Stella and Priss are flagging- and I've never seen Charlie as unsettled as he was last week."

Gilbert's voice was gentle, and he caught her hand. "We can't save them from it, love- we all have degrees to finish."

She scowled at him, stumbling over the slippers beside the bed. "I _know_ that. I just think that we need to be mindful-"

He pulled her back down onto the bed, and faced her calmly. "We will be."

"And _you_ need to stop working so late into the night at home."

"You're as bad as I am when it comes to that, Anne-girl. What's got you worried?"

She slumped down to place her head in his lap, and sighed. "Oh, nothing," she mumbled and was silent as he helped her pull the ribbon from her hair. "We need a holiday," she said eventually. "Marilla is worried about us. She mentioned something about the Spencervale doctor thinking that I was too pale, one summer- and she's convinced that you and I are going the same way again now."

He gave her a droll look, smoothing a broad hand over her curls. "Pale is something no Blythe ever is, sweetheart."

"I beg your pardon, _this_ one is," she shot back, making him grin. "Oh, and I'm sure _you_ were pale when Professor Hallett came into that tent to find us tangled together on the floor."

He gave a shout of laughter at that and scooped her up into his arms. "Perhaps just then. You're not really concerned, are you?"

She looked up at him and sighed. "Not about me, no. However, I _do_ know just how hard you work yourself when the pressure is high. I don't want to see you grow unwell, this term."

He bent down to kiss her temple with a smile. "I'm not. I'm healthy, I'm happy, and _I'm_ not the one keeping the whole household awake coughing through the night. We need to get you better."

She struggled upright, a look of stubbornness on her face, despite the fact that a stuffy nose rendered some words inaudible. "I am _fine_. I am getting up tomorrow, and I will be celebrating New Year's Eve downstairs in the parlour with you."

"You're not fighting to go to the New Year's Eve dance, then? Davy says it's going to be 'killing' with the whole town there," he teased, well pleased to see her regaining some spark. He chuckled then at the look of disdain on her face.

"Heavens, no. I am not up to dealing with Josie Pye and her ilk with a head-cold. I just want you, dearest- and hot tea," she added, making him smile.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Mrs Lynde initially threatened to remain at home from the dance to tend to Anne, clearly doubting Gilbert's ability to do so- until Anne herself diplomatically suggested that Mrs Pye would be happy to commandeer the Ladies Aid refreshment stall in her stead. That decided it- to the hall, she would go, and Gilbert and Anne were left to their own devices, their private celebration a world away from the noise and gossip of the community outing. Of course, it came at a price- Mrs Lynde's lecture on the nature of man and his addiction to the flesh was delivered to the invalid before the good woman left for the evening, determined that no advantage should be taken of an empty house and Anne's prone state. Anne had laughed until she cried at Gilbert's slightly green complexion, commenting that Mrs Lynde seemed to not know how to relate to the two of them- were they married, or not?

It was nearing seven o'clock in the evening on New Year's Eve when Anne came down the old staircase looking for her husband. She headed toward the parlour and found Gilbert on his knees stoking a roaring fire. The lamps were warm and friendly, and a tray of tea things sat beside the sofa, finished off with some of Marilla's famous plum cake. He looked up when she came in, grinning at the sight of her warmly wrapped in her nightgown, thick stockings and a robe.

"You _did_ specify comfortable", she teased, coming to his side just as he rose.

"I did. Give me a minute, and I'll be the same."

Anne sat on the old chair that had been Matthew's, smiling at the sound of Gilbert capering up the stairs two at a time. She remembered the winters she had sat up with Matthew and Marilla in the parlour, sometimes reading to them aloud from her books, scarcely pausing for breath, she supposed. The winter she had spent in Charlottetown had seemed so bleak on those icy evenings, remembering the warmth of the parlour and Matthew's gentle chuckle. She had longed for her own- and Marilla's short letters, although guarded, had shown her how necessary she had become to the pair of them as well.

When Gilbert entered the room again, he found Anne curled up in a chair that sat in a dim corner. "You'd be closer to the fire on the sofa, Anne-girl."

"I'm closer to Matthew, here," she said dreamily, and she startled when he picked her up, and sat down in the chair himself, settling her back on his lap. He bent his head to kiss her forehead, smiling as she snuggled into him. "Oh, I've missed this," she said drowsily. "You and I, and a fire, and time to ourselves."

He chuckled. "You know you wanted to come home for the holiday, sweetheart."

"I did." There was quiet for a time, and Gilbert was just wondering if it would have been better to send them both to bed when she spoke again, her voice the dreamy one he loved. "When did you first want to kiss me?"

He gave her a startled look and grinned sheepishly. "Probably a bit earlier than you realise."

"And that was…?"

Gilbert shifted her weight on his lap, before resting his brown head on one hand to study her in the lamplight. "Within the first year, I knew you, certainly."

Anne shook her head slowly, a slight smile curved in her lips. "I will never understand that, you know."

"It makes perfect sense to me."

"I should have thought myself unlikely to attract your attention, then," she said thoughtfully, as he ran his hand through her loose curls. "I bordered on rudeness in most of our interactions- and greater Avonlea was rather suspicious of me in the beginning."

"They didn't see what I saw." He saw her yearning look and smiled. "You were bright and imaginative- and you weren't afraid of anyone. I loved that."

"Everyone is afraid of _something_."

"Then what were you afraid of?"

She sighed against his shoulder, smiling at the slight shiver he gave when her cool fingertips slipped between his pyjama shirt buttons. "I- was afraid of not fitting in."

"Anne, you _never_ played the popularity games at school-"

"I still needed to _belong_. Children feel it so acutely when they aren't like anyone else. Whether it's their clothing or feeling that they are behind everyone else."

"You're preaching to the choir," he said dryly. He laughed, then. "No, not the dresses- the lack of puffed sleeves never bothered me. Besides, it was far more interesting watching you without all of the ruffles."

"Gilbert _Blythe_!"

"You wanted to know when I first thought of it."

"Yes, well, I didn't think it would mean you had been watching me," Anne protested.

"I wouldn't have had to just watch if you'd given me the time of day. We were in a single classroom- and I saw you almost every day."

She huffed, a smile lurking in her eyes. "Puffed sleeves wouldn't have changed that."

He shrugged in apology. "I could see you, without them, sweetheart. Not miles of fabric, or ribbons covering everything- or- or, well, even the bustles that the boys used to conjecture about."

"That does _not_ make me feel any better," she grumbled.

He pulled the hand that had been in the act of retreating back over his heart and spoke quietly. "I saw _you_. How slim you were, yes, but you were anything but fragile. Like a young tree in the wind. You held your head up high- you carried yourself so proudly. It was breathtaking, to me."

Anne knew better than to argue with him, however, her voice was oddly tight when she spoke. "You didn't notice the other girls?" she said, in an effort to tease him.

"Oh, I saw them. They made sure that they were seen. Even Jane used to preen when she had a new dress. That was a huge shock when I got back."

"Jane?"

Gilbert laughed, slipping one hand into her robe to cuddle her closer. "No. All of them. I left playmates behind," he said, frankly. "I knew them from the time they were born- I even played in the dirt with Diana when she was young. I got back to find that they had all become starched and stiff, and not one of them would talk about anything real."

"Diana was never like that!"

He gave her an apologetic look and squeezed her waist. "No, but by then, my mother had royally offended hers, and they weren't exactly knocking on our door when we got back."

Anne scowled. "Really?"

He scratched his nose in unconcern. "Oh, she accused Dad of missing his scheduled turn to cut the grass in the churchyard. She didn't think that her husband should have to do it twice- but Dad was only weeks from being sent to Alberta. She cast it up to mother sometime later, and, well, the Nelson temper erupted. You couldn't have done it better." Anne was quiet for some time but turned when he continued, his words uncertain. "Anne, the other girls- they were the valley, to me. _You_ were the horizon."

Her eyes glimmered greenly in the firelight, and she turned to slip her arms around his neck, kissing him in a way that robbed him of all rational thought for several minutes, her slender hands sliding into his hair. She pulled away when they were both breathing heavily, her eyes dim with unexpected tears. "I thought I had taken your horizon away," she said softly.

He shook his head, before getting to his feet, carrying her to the sofa and placing her down on the quilt there. "Only if you left. But you didn't go," he murmured, kneeling down by her side. He bent down to kiss her, his hands resting on either side of her head, twining a red curl through his fingers. She smiled when he pulled back to meet her eyes again, his hand cradling her cheek.

"I couldn't leave my heart."

"Anne," he said, breathlessly, and her gaze was tender as she pulled him down to her, the precious weight of him both soothing and inflaming her. "I don't want to crush you," he muttered, and she gave him a curious smile.

"I never feel that. This is where I feel safe."

Gilbert chuckled. "This is where I'm _home_. Here, with you." He hesitated, looking at her regretfully. "You still need to get better, love. Maybe we should wait."

Her hands ran over his broad shoulders before locking around his neck, and she shrugged innocently. "Then _make_ me feel better. You were doing a wonderful job. Why stop now?"

He could only laugh- until her lips moved to his jawline with determination, and his body melted as he mumbled endearments into her hair, her hands pressing him to her.

Anne could feel the moment he gave in and sighed in satisfaction, loving the strong arms that snaked around her form tightly. She shifted to pull him closer, shivering at the feel of his firm body cradled between her hips. The way he moved instinctively against her caused a flaming in her belly, and her breath caught at the blaze of adoration on his face- and she found herself wondering briefly- what _if_ \- what if we _didn't_ -

Anne suddenly stilled and began to laugh, as her hand paused to brush the soft quilt beneath them. "Gilbert, you had this quilt here already."

"Er- I did…."

"You planned for this, didn't you?"

He grinned wickedly. "Well, I don't want you getting cold, do I? And if we happen to spend more time lying than sitting on sofas, well, that's just one of our many peculiarities as a couple."

"And we do prefer it," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Although didn't Mrs Lynde warn us about you taking advantage of my weakened state?"

"We're married and can do whatever we want," Gilbert said smugly. "I knew there was a bonus to getting married early. If it's what you want, and what _I_ want-"

"And I am very sure that we _do_ -"

"Then I will stay right here with you in my arms, all night long."

Anne looked at him, beaming. "Happy New Year, beloved."

"Happy New Year." He bent to kiss her forehead, relishing in her closeness. There was a slight pause, then. "Anne- this next year- we don't really know what will happen."

"I suppose not," she said softly.

"Anne, I swear to you-" he said haltingly before she shook her head.

"No. You don't need to promise me anything," she said firmly. " _Together_ is the only one I need from you. We will just take tomorrow as it comes."

He exhaled, his eyes caressing her face. "Together."

* * *

On the third of January, Gilbert sat on the Kingsport train with a book in one hand, while the other smoothed over the red head that lay on his thigh. Stella and Priscilla had thoughtfully left Anne to sleep, after observing the purple shadows under her eyes, and the scowl she gave her young husband after he insisted that she rest. He stopped reading for a moment when she shifted, smiling at the contented mumble she gave.

The farewell had been quiet at the station that morning, with Marilla insisting that the couple didn't need a circus to send them off this time. Only Gilbert's parents and she were there, and she tucked Anne's shawl around her with a gentle pat.

"Marilla-"

Gilbert had his arm around his wife and began to laugh at the hoarse voice that erupted from Anne this time. The symptoms of the cold had mostly subsided by now, and she had woken up feeling refreshed on New Year's day- with no voice at all. This had been hilarious for all concerned, as she protested that she really was recovered. Of course, it was hard for Anne to not talk, and her recovery took a little longer than it might have done otherwise. She had braved the cold the previous night to spend time with Diana, and had sat watching Fred, he and Diana converse, her hand tightly within Gilbert's. At one point Diana had brought out her sewing, a little gown she was working on that made Anne catch her breath, her grey eyes burning into his and holding the unuttered word of _someday_.

Gilbert looked across now to where Priscilla slept on Stella's shoulder, and chuckled. Stella was trying to reach for her bag without disturbing her, and he grinned. The train was relatively empty this time, and the six Island college students were spread over the dim carriage as evening fell.

"I'd help, but-" he gestured down to where Anne was lying, and Stella rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, this pair! They never used to go to sleep on the train so easily."

"She had a cold over the holiday," he explained, before nodding at Priss. "Was she ill too?"

"No, her mother was," she said, stifling a sigh. "She's been poorly for some time. I think Priss was glad to be able to do something for her, to be honest. It's hard for her to be away so much."

"For us all," he commented quietly. His parents had been full of plans for them for the summer, and even Marilla had hinted that they would be pleased to see the couple for an extended time- whatever their plans were afterwards. The subject had evidently been canvassed in their absence, and Gilbert felt it at the back of every comment, every question from the Avonlea folk. He could only admire Anne's composure as she deflected the conversation away from the subject, with suitably vague replies, her hand closing over the forearm that grew tense in his frustration. It soothed him to know that Anne was not concerned, and he resolved to only listen to her.

He grinned at the sight of Stella finally nudging Prissy over to lean on the window to sleep, heaving a sigh of relief when she could reach her bag again. In the distance, he could hear Charlie pontificating about something, and he picked up the Chemistry journal Professor Wiseman had insisted he read over the break, absently stroking through Anne's soft hair on his lap. The scientific world was changing so quickly around them. It would take a lifetime to keep up with it- and who knew where the world would be by that time? The professor had seemed quite happy to not discuss his upcoming exams, focusing instead on the research into germ theory that he was conducting at the university with his top student. The agar plates in the lab were blooming prolifically before they had left Kingsport, and Gilbert had been asked to document their findings for the board, and to write a paper about the spread of contagious illnesses in the city.

Professor Wiseman had made no secret about the fact that he was at the university primarily for research- a big part of the reason he had jumped at the opportunity of gaining an intern for the year. Gilbert rotated his stiff shoulder, and lay his brown head back against the seat with a slight smile. Perhaps a week in bed had been just what he needed, before the insanity of the final semester began. He allowed his eyes to close, trying not to be impatient for the work that lay waiting for him in Kingsport. He'd watched with joy as Anne's ambitions had begun to take flight in recent months- and there was a deep relief inside that ambition was not done with him yet, either. He wouldn't know himself if it didn't.

He scrubbed his tired face with one hand, trying not to shift the girl on his lap. There was an hour or so before they would reach Kingsport, and he allowed the chug of the engine and the rocking of the carriage to relax his tired muscles, as he tried to still his mind. Little ideas about the work that he could do within the world of education had been bubbling inside for months, the possibilities about the world he could help create, the life he and Anne would build together. He breathed deeply, willing his body to find rest.

All of that was in the future, of course- and for that, he would just need to wait.

* * *

Redmond had been back in session for a week, when Anne finally laid her completed manuscript before her husband on Friday afternoon.

"It's- it's the final _final_ copy; I've included the last of Professor Winston's changes," she said, nervously.

"Mmm."

There was silence for a few minutes.

"Do you need me to move the lamp for you?"

"No, I'm fine here, love."

"Oh. Er- good." After another lengthy pause, in which Gilbert could clearly hear the ticking of the clock- "Would you like a cup of tea? To help you read?"

"I already had one, sweetheart. Carry on with what you were doing."

"Oh- I- er, alright."

When he hadn't been able to turn a page in some time, he was disconcerted to realise that Anne hadn't moved either; her grey eyes were fixed on him, with a half-crazed look in their depths. "Anne, you don't need to watch me."

"Certainly not! I'm- I'm cleaning, that's all," she said, somehow managing to sound both scandalised and guilty at the same time.

"The counter is shining."

"I am sure that Mrs Lynde would say that a house could never be _too_ clean."

"Do you not have some classwork to do?"

"Not at the moment." She briefly moved to tidy the lounge, her brow puckered in worry. "Please do be careful with the pages, Gilbert, it's the only copy-"

This harried comment made Gilbert throw down the manuscript, and his look was grim as he picked up his protesting wife around the waist, and deposited her neatly at the front door.

"Gil, what are you doing?"

"Dearest love, you are going to Patty's Place. NOW."

"Well, really!"

"Yes, _really_ ," he said, aggravated. "I refuse to read something this important with you looking over my shoulder- it took me fifteen minutes to read the first page with all of your clattering around. I finally have the time to look at it, and the girls are wild to see you, so go _now_. I'll be along this evening as normal. "

Anne donned her coat and hat with as much dignity as she could muster, her chin high. "I was planning on making a cake, this afternoon."

"Not in this mood, you won't. I'll stop at the baker's on the way for you. Now _go_."

* * *

Phil's laughter was abundant as she ushered Anne inside the warm lounge room that afternoon, taking the coat from the petulant damsel. "Honey, you had that coming," she said, her brown eyes twinkling. "You know how precious you become about one of your creations."

"I do _not_!"

"You chased me from your bedroom once when I accidentally-"

" _Deliberately_ -"

"-read just a little bit of one over your shoulder!" Phil said calmly. "You clearly can't settle down when someone is actively reading your work; so if want your husband to read it properly, then leave the man in peace."

Anne scowled and threw herself into her favourite chair. "You are _not_ supposed to be taking his side, you cold-blooded theorist, you."

"Here, now! No name calling, unless we're all here to join in," Priscilla said cheerfully, popping up beside Anne to perch on the arm of her chair.

"Gilbert was trying to read Anne's latest story, and-"

A burst of laughter interrupted the explanation, and Priscilla tweaked Anne's pretty nose. "Did you punish him?"

"I did _not_!" the redhead said indignantly. "I _asked_ him to read it! And he had the nerve to send me here because he said he couldn't read with me flapping around in the background!"

"Aha, so you admit you were flapping," Phil teased. "And you _did_ come, so you obviously knew he was right."

"Maybe I just wanted to see you early."

Priscilla laughed again and gave Anne a smothering hug. "Never mind, darling. Would you like us to scowl at him when he gets here tonight?"

"Well, I'm grateful," Phil said cheekily. "Now we get you for a whole afternoon! I'll thank him when he gets here."

* * *

By the time Gilbert arrived at the house, decidedly earlier than they usually arrived, he slipped in the front door to catch Anne alone in the kitchen, apron-covered and dusted with flour. To his delight she squealed and threw herself at him, evidently having forgotten her ire with him- for the moment.

"I hoped you would come early, Gil; I was concerned that there was no dinner left for you at home."

"I can do it myself, you know- you taught me, after all. But I assumed the girls wouldn't mind feeding me," he said, lifting a basket onto the counter. "I wasn't sure what they needed- so I got a pie to go with your cake."

Anne beamed at him. "Lovely. I have biscuits coming out of the oven soon."

He looked around curiously as Anne continued cleaning. "I don't hear the girls."

"Prissy and Phil are working in their bedrooms- the classics essay is due tomorrow, and I said that I would hold the fort in the kitchen for Aunt Jimsie. She and Stella had to run to the market for shoelaces."

Gilbert came up behind her then, his look sheepish. "Forgiven me yet, for tossing you from the house?"

Anne laughed, much to his relief. "Perhaps this time, yes- although that makes it sound like a tragic novel." She turned to face him with a chagrined look. "The girls seem to be in your corner, in this case. Am I really so terrible?"

He grinned. "You are a tad precious about your writing, my sweet. I can't claim to feel the same way about differential calculus."

"Has a well-meaning person ever used your calculus to sell baking powder?"

"Well, not yet, no."

She gave a small shrug, her countenance falling. "I might be a _little_ too sensitive about it."

Gilbert ruffled his hair and sighed. "It's because it matters, sweetheart. I know that- we _all_ do."

There was a pause, and he caught the intensely vulnerable look on her face. "Do you want to talk about it now?" She only nodded, and he sighed.

"You know I can never be objective- not about this," he said gently. "It's your spirit on the page. Your characters are delightful- they made me laugh- and it's unexpected. It's fresh and vivid, and honest, and I love the humour in it."

Anne's face had shuttered, and she watched Gilbert carefully. "Are there any flaws?"

He hesitated, and smiled. "Probably," he admitted, noting the indignant spark in her eyes. "It's not perfect. I'd dislike it too much if it was. You didn't make a perfect world- and you didn't give your Megan a perfect life, either. You didn't explain the hard things away. It was- real."

Anne nodded now, her shoulders beginning to relax. "How could I explain why some things happen?" she said quietly. "They simply do. And if we knew the reason, I doubt that it would make things any easier." He frowned, not understanding her thoughts. "Why did I lose my parents?" Anne asked. "Why did your father get sick, why was I sent to Marilla and Matthew instead of a boy? What happened to him?" She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "If there was any reason, I don't want to know. I have to believe that there is a way through it- that no matter what happens, there is always another bend in the road."

"And that is why I love you," Gilbert stated, bending over to smile into her eyes. "And it's why I love your story. What do you need to do next?"

"I- I send it to the magazines, now. Professor Winston suggested that- many stories like this start by being serialized- and it isn't quite long enough to be a novel, yet. He didn't want me to expand on it at this stage. He's given me a list of addresses to send it to."

"You sound unsure."

Anne chuckled, hiding her face in his collar. "Perhaps I am, a little. How often do your dreams waltz up and take you by the hand?"

Gilbert pulled her close, his smile huge. "With you? All the time. It's going to happen, Anne Blythe. Just wait and see."


	38. Chapter 38, Oh, the Places you'll Go

**Ha! Two in one month! And this from the girl who once had to restrain herself from posting every second day... Never mind, things are getting better both on here and in our crazy home, and calm is returning to our little kingdom.**

 **As ever, thank you to those who have sent messages and encouraged from afar, and to those who have walked with me since the very beginning. I never thought this story would take over a year to be told- and I've been surprised (now that I am looking down the barrel of finishing this one) to find that little ideas have been bubbling up for the sequel I promised you a long time ago.**

 **One of the problems I've had in building it is that a normal structure just can't cover the three year time apart, and the first year of marriage that needs to be its own story. So I've decided that since I am making all of this up anyhow, I'll just make up my own damn structure! I'm breaking it into two, and there will be a 12 chapter arc, that comprises the med school time, one chapter for every season of the three years, which will be more like vignettes, I suppose. The story hasn't been clear to me for some time, and I was afraid that I wouldn't manage to find the thread again- but what can I say? The human brain is amazing- and at the right time, it will all make sense. Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy this.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 38**

By the middle of January, school had fallen into its customary patterns. Classes and study groups and meetings, cold days and still colder nights. Gilbert had sat two more of the exams he needed for the Cooper, coming home late half-frozen, and insisting on not budging from the fire in an effort to thaw out. Football practices were miserable, and Gilbert had a hard time convincing Mrs Whitley that rolling about in the mud at this time of the year was justifiable. Anne only shrugged with a twinkle in her grey eyes, saying that as _she_ was not the one trying to get his white uniform clean, she had nothing to say in defence of him.

Jo had taken to collecting Anne and Gilbert on Friday evenings to avoid the cold, chatting easily about the wedding to come and the parish that had embraced him. Anne had not been wrong about Phil's frustration in managing a wedding and exams, and the three of them had conspired together to ease both- Gilbert made sure that she studied the necessary subjects, and didn't waste time on what she already knew; Anne handled the voluminous wedding correspondence coming from her mother, and Jo carried his future bride off to the small tearoom near Redmond when she needed a break from her studies.

Aunt Jimsie (who still managed to be bemused that Phil was to become a poor minister's wife) was kept busy shepherding the girls to bed and up again in the winter mornings. Anne watched her whenever they were together, a slight smile on her face. The household of Patty's Place had grown even closer after the wedding that had upended the household- something that had alleviated the guilt she had felt in leaving them all. Aunt Jimsie could be to the point with her brood when needed, however, there was always a hand to settle Phil's unruly curls, a reminder for Prissy to not slouch, and the motherly counsel she heaped on her niece- whether Stella had asked for it or not. Stella often complained that Anne could do no wrong, as an honorary member of their household- and Gilbert was questioned closely on the wellbeing of their home, and _were_ they getting enough rest? He was a great favourite with her, of course, however, Aunt Jimsie did not hesitate to remind him of the tremendous blessing it was to be settled with Anne so young.

The work in the final term was as challenging as the students had expected, and lamps were burning into the wee hours at both of the houses. Anne and Gilbert were rarely seen without a pencil and book in one hand, much to Rusty's disgust- his yowls were sometimes necessary to remind the couple that it was nearing supper-time, for both man and beast.

As last minute subject choices were taking place, Priscilla had announced grimly that she would take honours in Classics, come what may- young Andrew Jacobs would regret his sexist comments on the futility of women and higher education, aided and abetted by the pompous gentleman who oversaw the department. Stella's various projects kept her busy, however, she refused to leave the house on Friday evenings. The fire was banked high each week and Aunt Jimsie presided over the room full of young people, herself as popular with their guests as any of the girls. Phil had told Anne in an undertone that one of Jo's friends in seminary had visited them once or twice through the week- a dreamily handsome gentleman, she averred; and that Priscilla had actually blushed when the tall man stood up, completely towering over her.

There were several young men who visited regularly, and Anne and Gilbert amused themselves in watching the various victims. Stella had all manner of chums amongst the boys at Redmond, but had not formed any serious attachments- Anne suspected that she had no real interest in doing so, at this point in her life. She did, however, admit that she was pleading with her brother to be present for their convocation- and to bring young James Caldwell with him to the dance. Gilbert only snorted, telling Stella to keep him on the other side of the ballroom. There was no real ill will toward the young Colossus, however, the memory of a boot crunching over his collarbone was not a pleasant one.

* * *

As February began, Gilbert was somewhat dismayed to find that the cold weather was stiffening him up yet again, and had resorted to weird and wonderful stretches to try and gain some flexibility back.

"Gilbert, darling?" Anne said, one evening.

"Hmm?"

"What _are_ you doing?"

He began to laugh, sheepishly. She was seated at her desk with papers all around her and had looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his left arm bent at an impossible angle against the wall. "Nothing terrible. I must have pulled something yesterday at practice."

She dropped her pen and crossed to his side then, and her look was thoughtful as she moved to probe his shoulder gently. "Perhaps the cold is causing it, Gil."

He scowled at her then, trying to rotate the joint. "That only happens to older people. And no cheeky comments about that, either."

Her chuckle made him smile, and he winced as she pushed the heel of her hand into a sore spot. "Well, we are wise and learned seniors- who now have old football injuries." She tugged him over toward the sofa and sat on the arm of his chair to better reach his shoulder.

"I thought you said this morning that you had work to do, tonight," he said with a slight groan.

"I do- however, I can't concentrate right now," Anne commented absently, her slim fingers working on the knotted muscles with care. "I've spent so much time reading today that I am starting to think in Latin."

" _Ibimus enim a ambulant pro_?"

" _Et tu,_ Mr Blythe?" she teased, before laughing aloud at his smug grin. "I would love to go for a walk. I should put some more liniment on your shoulder when we return, though."

Gilbert got to his feet with a pretence at a grumble, and went to get their coats- however, the two of them stopped suddenly at a knock on the Mushroom door. Mystified, Gilbert opened it to see Royal Gardner standing on their step, his hat pulled low to shield him from the cool wind- the wind they had just been about to brave themselves.

"Roy? We don't have tutoring tonight."

The other gentleman removed his hat as he was ushered inside, his manner stiff. "I am aware of that. I am here to issue an invitation to you both from my family."

His eyes had turned to Anne at that moment, who raised auburn eyebrows. She had seen him in class that day, and he had made no mention of a visit- and yet here he was.

"My mother is hosting a benefit for the Kingsport Children's Asylum," he said diffidently, handing Anne a heavy and heavily scented envelope. "We haven't done so since my father passed- however Mother is starting to take up some of her old charities again."

Gilbert's eyes hadn't left Anne's face, and he watched her swallow, her voice remarkably even as she stood beside him. "I am pleased for her. However, I fail to see why you would invite us to such an event- since surely, that must be your doing."

Having visited the Mushroom many times by now, Roy removed his jacket, and placed it over the nearest chair as Gilbert pulled out another for his wife. "Yes. I asked her to include your names in the invitations. Anne- I would like to ask a favour of you. I wondered if you would consider speaking to my mother's guests at the benefit." Her grey eyes were wide, and he winced at the anger building in her expression. "I realise how this might sound, coming from me- from my family- and I have no intention of taking advantage of our- acquaintance," he said awkwardly. "However, one of my responsibilities that evening will be to give a report on the orphanage." There was a silence in the room then, and Roy exhaled. "You were the one who told me that nothing will ever change unless the children are given a voice."

Anne's hand clutched Gilbert's painfully, and she fought to suppress her immediate, negative reaction. "I- I don't believe I put it in those words."

"I am sure you understand the concept of paraphrasing."

Gilbert almost snorted at the glare that she shot at Roy. "Are you finished poking fun, Mr Gardner?"

"Truthfully, I wasn't," Roy said, sheepishly. "I'm serious. I would like you to speak after I give my report. If change is to come, then the society that I come from needs to develop empathy. They need to see potential in the children they care for. I can't do that alone- and I have no intention of continuing a flawed system, in my father's stead."

Anne was silent for some time, and Gilbert watched her, alert for any signs of distress. "What is it that you want me to say? I'm not interested in portraying myself as a victim, Roy- or as merely a token orphan."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "If you were willing, I would like you to share some of the challenges you have faced- and to shed some light on what it means to be a child from one of these places. They will all be congratulating themselves on doing their benevolent work- and perhaps by seeing what is possible when nurture and education are given their due, they will start to see what must change." Anne was quiet, and he sighed, his voice flat. "I don't see you as a token orphan, Anne. I know you to be a clever and confident speaker, and that your story is worth hearing. I am familiar with all of the people who will be in attendance, and I know what they will expect to hear. I've had these charitable conversations a hundred times," he said bluntly. "I should like to try something different."

To his surprise, Anne's laughter sounded. "Are we merely an excuse for you to rebel, Roy?"

Gilbert's mouth quirked at Roy's oddly sheepish chuckle. "My mother might think so."

Gilbert cleared his throat then, his eyes flicking to Anne to check her reaction. "What do you think?" he asked quietly. She paused and gave him a faint smile.

"I did say that we needed to effect change," she said slowly. "Perhaps this is where it begins." The couple was silent for a short time, before Anne turned back to Roy, calmly. "Very well then. We accept your invitation."

Roy's relief was obvious, and he exhaled. "I should like to meet with you beforehand to work on your presentation, if I may. I do not want you to think that I don't trust your instincts-"

Anne smiled wryly. "You have a better understanding of the audience. I understand." She rose to take the letter opener from her desk and opened the cream-coloured invitation to check the date. "In two weeks time?" she asked, and he nodded. "I can have a draft to you by the end of the week."

He stood then, clearly having done what he came for. "I have included an invitation for you to bring guests, as well. I will send a carriage for you all on the night," he said, before holding up a hand in defence. "If you are willing to do this for me, it is the least I can do."

When the door closed behind Roy only a few minutes later, Gilbert turned to Anne and exhaled, his eyes watchful. "Are you really alright with this?"

She gave an odd laugh, moving to nestle into his side. "I'm not sure," she said truthfully, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. "It certainly isn't anything I ever saw myself doing." She played with the buttons on his waistcoat for a moment, before admitting- "I had been considering visiting the orphanage myself, one of these days."

"Really?"

"There are occasionally people who volunteer there," she said quietly. "It's rare- at least, it was while I was at the Hopetown asylum. However, the staff were only too happy to turn their charges over to someone else, if they had the inclination."

He put his hands in his pockets, worried. "What is it that you think you could do there?"

She hesitated, and pulled a notebook from a stack of her books beside them, handing it to him silently. Gilbert's eyes widened at the considerable list before him: reading to the younger children, grammar lessons, sewing, socialization skills, supervised outings, and so on- and at last he rubbed his face. "Anne, you know that you can't do all of these things right now," he said reluctantly. "You won't have the time around your college work."

Her face coloured, and he almost smiled at the way her chin rose. "Not now, perhaps. It might take time to build a relationship with the institution- and it's quite possible that knowing the patrons could open the door for me, later on. If you were to study next year-"

"Anne," he said, in some exasperation, and she clapped a hand over his mouth.

"We haven't ruled it out yet, _Mr I-am-winning-the-Cooper-prize-for-a-reason_ ," she insisted crossly. "There is no harm in trying to prepare for all possibilities."

"That does it," Gilbert muttered, grinning at her shriek when he hoisted her in the air to carry her through to the bedroom, and dropping her on their bed unceremoniously. "I am not a parrot that needs to be silenced. If you want me to be quiet, I suggest you find a better way to do it."

Anne struggled upright chuckling, as he sat down beside her, and a short silence fell between them when he pulled her close.

"You don't have to do this, Anne-girl. You don't owe these people anything."

"I know that," she answered him, her grey eyes wistful. "Gil, do you know what it might have meant to be treated as a normal child, in that place? What if there had been one sympathetic ear, just one person who cared for us, a little?" His look was grief-stricken, and she cupped his face in her hands earnestly. "One day- one day I might be able to do that for someone. The children need people to teach them, people who won't hold their status against them. Just one person who believes in them."

Gilbert brushed his fingertips over her lips to pause her speech, a tender look on his face. "So that really does work," he murmured, before nodding. "Alright. Whatever you want to do, Anne." She gave him a more hopeful look, and he chuckled. "You know that you weren't really asking for my permission."

"Nooo- although I do want your understanding," she admitted. "It will take time, and I have a feeling that it will take proper connections to get in there. This may be my opportunity to do so."

He hugged her tightly, before tumbling them backwards onto the tulip bedspread, smiling when she brushed back his brown curls in her long fingers. "We missed our walk. Did you still want to go out?"

Anne laughed, feeling the weight of his body against hers, knowing immediately that her husband had no desire to go anywhere. She pulled on the tie that was already loosened, her smile mischievous as she closed the gap between them.

"I'm sure we can find something to occupy us right here."

* * *

Phil flopped herself down on Anne's bed the next afternoon, her eyes enormous. " _Royal Gardner asked you to address the patrons of the Kingsport Asylum?_ "

"Yes," Anne replied, before grabbing her hand, her look pleading. "You will come with us, won't you?"

Phil waved her other hand dismissively. "And miss a Gardner extravaganza? Certainly not. Their family moves in some of the highest circles in Kingsport. It's sure to be magnificent."

"And the girls?"

"It will just be Jo and I, I'm afraid. Priscilla was invited to a concert that night, and Stella's father is visiting her then."

"Not her mother?"

"He's coming to Kingsport on business. Mrs Maynard doesn't travel in the wintertime, apparently."

Anne sighed, a clouded look on her face that Phil instantly noted.

"What is it?"

"I- sometimes miss knowing these things about you all, right away," she said slowly. "It never used to be so hard to keep updated with each other."

Phil gave her an affectionate pat on the hand. "Honey, none of us expect you to know everything as soon as we do. You have your own household to attend to. And neither of you want to be sharing with our crazy household, really."

Anne chuckled. "I'm quite happy to be alone with Gilbert, thank you."

"Which I am sure that I will appreciate, come June this year," Phil said, her tone droll. "Imagine being the sole person in charge of the butter money though! It's gone up again, you know."

"I don't know," Anne commented airily. "Mrs Whitley insists on doing our ordering with her own, and simply gives us the total."

She was hit by a pillow before Phil rolled over to look at her seriously. "Anne, might you and Gil really stay here in Kingsport?"

"We don't know, Phil."

"But if he goes to Medical school-"

"Then, of course, we stay," Anne said, with an odd little sigh, and there was a lull for a time as the two friends stared at the once-brown ceiling.

"Professor Daniels was saying that the results could come out as early as April," Phil said, eventually.

"Yes- although it will be kept quiet until graduation. Gilbert has to sit another two exams for it next week."

Phil gave a little shudder. "As if the regular ones aren't enough! No _thank_ you. Does he even have time for the benefit?"

Anne chuckled, crossing her hands behind her red head. "He's making the time. Between football practices and extra classes, he's rarely home before supper, these days."

"You're surprisingly cheerful in spite of that."

"It's just a season, Phil. Three more months of this- and then we will have all the time we want."

"Hmph. Until school begins again, Queen Anne. No, I want your beloved going to medical school," Phil said firmly. "Someone responsible needs to oversee my transition from the belle of Redmond to minister's wife in Patterson Street- and it had much better be you, oh domestic goddess."

She gave a sharp yelp when Anne pinched her side. "Phillipa Eudora Gordon, whether or not we are here next year, that is a matter for us to decide," she retorted. "I will be wherever Gilbert needs me to be."

"Oh _fine_ , chose your husband first. I should be the next consideration though, certainly."

Soon the girls heard the front door open with Gilbert's cheerful call, and Anne snorted as Phil got herself off their bed post-haste.

"Phil, do calm down- he already knows you're here. You were there when I told him at the dinner break."

"Which was far too long ago," Gilbert stated as they entered the living room, before tossing his bag underneath the desk and bending to kiss his wife. "You have about one minute to tell me what I can and cannot eat, Anne-girl- or I'm devouring the entire pantry."

Anne shook her head with a little smile. "Darling, Jo will be here for supper soon, if you can wait just a little longer; although a few biscuits should tide you over in the meantime."

"I'll take them."

As he headed for the kitchen, Anne turned back to see Phil's wide-eyed look. "Oh, no! I was focusing on learning to clean a house and to bake to impress the Ladies Aid. I completely forgot that you had to _feed_ them."

Laughter bubbled up at once, and she took her beloved friend by the elbow. "Every day. Although men aren't children, you know- they are quite able to feed themselves. Although setting limits is also necessary-" she commented, aiming her comment at the pantry.

"That only happened once!" Gilbert said, injured, emerging from the cupboard. "How was I to know that you intended that cake for Mrs Whitley?"

Phil took some plates from the cupboard, smiling to herself as Anne moved to assist her husband. Her own marriage, her own household was only a few months away now. As she listened to the easy banter behind her, she looked around the small Mushroom and sighed in contentment. However humble the Patterson Street manse was, she could see that it really didn't matter. She and Jo had all they needed to make a home.

* * *

On the first of February, Gilbert and Jo stood waiting in the kitchen at the Mushroom, holding the wraps for the ladies. Phil had insisted on being early enough to help Anne dress, fussing and clucking over the guest of honour for the evening. Anne had chosen to wear a deep navy gown that displayed her creamy skin to perfection, her red hair shining against it in the lamplight.

"You look lovely, Anne," Jo commented sincerely. Gilbert only smiled, reaching up to brush the soft curl that drooped on her forehead, always looking as if it wanted to fall.

"Now, no touching, Gilbert," Phil scolded, slapping his hand away. "She is practically perfect, now- and you have no idea how merciless these socialites can be." She proceeded to pinch Anne's pale cheeks, while the damsel in question rolled her eyes.

"Is that really necessary, Phil?"

Phil then turned her critical eye on the men and glared at Gilbert's question while she brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder. "Yes, it _is_. When in societ y, you must do as society does-" she then halted in dismay. "Oh, good heavens, I've become my mother." Gilbert couldn't help but laugh, while Jo tried to remain still as his tie was being centred.

"I almost expected you to tell me that good society has rules for a reason," he teased, chuckling when Phil's mouth drooped. He wrapped an arm around her comfortingly while Anne crossed to take up her wrap from her husband.

"Phil, my darling, these people will accept me, or they won't," she said philosophically. "We needn't worry about it. Besides, it may be that I offend them so royally tonight that I am asked to leave."

Gilbert shrugged. "If they do, I know a nice little diner we can flee to. We'll be fed, at least."

There was a knock at the door then, and a smartly dressed footman stood waiting when Gilbert opened it. Phil and Jo were directed to follow the man down the little laneway, while Gilbert ushered his wife out and locked the door behind them. Anne checked the little bag she carried to make sure that her notes were safely in there, for the first time feeling nervous. Gilbert smiled, turning to pull the wrap around her closer, her soft hat resting gently on artfully arranged copper curls.

"You'll make them love you without even trying," he said firmly. "I've seen you win over crowds of people a hundred times before- you'll be no different tonight."

Anne sighed as he tucked her gloved hand into his arm, and picked up her skirts with a little twinkle in her eyes. "Once more into battle?"

"You've already won the war, sweetheart."

* * *

The moonlight shone down on elegant gardens as the carriage drove them to their destination. The ladies were handed out of the carriage before a brightly lit mansion with soft music in the open foyer, and the sound of horses moving steadily up and down the driveway behind them. Gilbert's hand was firm in Anne's as they walked up to the stairs with other guests, Phil leading the way with confidence. Liveried servants took coats and wraps, and when the ladies stepped out of the rooms that had been designated as dressing rooms, Gilbert was on hand to offer his arm to his wife, his face inscrutable amongst the throng of people around them. They were ushered toward the ballroom, and he grinned when Anne muttered that their entire house would fit in the foyer.

Anne drew in a calming breath now, seeing the line of people waiting to receive them. Roy was there, naturally, and the people beside him were no doubt his family.

"Mother, Aline, Dorothy: may I present Miss Philippa Gordan and her fiancee, the Reverend Jonas Blake; and our guests, Mr and Mrs Gilbert Blythe."

While Mrs Garner and Aline had nodded and merely given stiff nods before moving onto the next couple, a gloved hand was placed on Anne's arm as they moved aside, and she was met with a beaming smile from the youngest Miss Gardner.

"Mr and Mrs Blythe, I've heard so much about you both," said Dorothy brightly. Despite the formal introduction that had preceded them, Anne found herself smiling at the girl whose twinkling eyes narrowed at her husband. "And speaking of such, Mr Blythe, I _cannot_ believe that you got my brother to tutor someone- he wouldn't even help _me_ with my algebra when I was in school."

"Dorothy will not tell you that she does not readily listen to me," Roy said evenly, with an indulgent look at his baby sister. "She went through more tutors than both Aline and I together."

Anne's glance at Dorothy showed an innocent look in her dark blue eyes that seemed to indicate the truth of this, and she was swift to turn to Phil and Jonas to introduce herself, as Roy nodded reluctantly, and returned to his mother. She gestured toward the ballroom and tucked herself between Anne and Phil to walk.

"Roy rarely introduces his college chums to us, so it is a delight to finally meet you all," she said frankly. To this, Anne gave Gilbert a slightly odd glance- _chums_? Dorothy hadn't noticed any interplay between the husband and wife, and continued, her voice confidential. "He does like to keep his college life separate from us, I think- there was even talk of him taking a flat in town at first for his college years, only Mama wouldn't hear of it after Father died. He does love it, at Redmond. It sounds as if college must be the jolliest place."

Anne blinked at this revelation before she replied. "Well, he is a wonderful student. And yes, it is a rather special time."

The girl sighed wistfully. "I should love it, I think- although Mama- well, it just isn't possible," she said flatly.

Seeing the look in her dark blue eyes, Anne gave her the smile of the household of faith. "You must come and see us sometime yourself, Miss Gardner- I should love to get to know you."

Dorothy beamed. "Of course! Roy has told me all about visiting your sweet cottage, as well- he went on and on about it, actually. It's no secret that he never really liked the manor."

Within a minute the four people were pushed through the doors to the cavernous ballroom, and Dorothy was summoned back to the receiving line. Gilbert drew in a deep breath, his look bewildered.

" _Chums_?"

"Oh, I know," Anne answered faintly. She looked around the elegant room with a slight smile on her face, remembering the girl that had once been overawed by the lights and colour of Charlottetown. The room gleamed in the lamplight, and she could overhear murmured comments about the flower arrangements, the supper, and the other guests milling around the ballroom.

There was a step at her side then, and Anne turned to see Dorothy standing by her again, a smile on her face.

"Roy asked me to look after you all tonight," she explained, unruffled by the chaos around them. "He will be needed a good deal of the time, I imagine- Mama doesn't like to host alone. Oh, she has Aline, of course- however she prefers to have a man by her side."

"You won't be needed anywhere else tonight?"

"Good heavens, no. Mama likes to keep me well occupied. They only want to be sure that I won't talk about something odd- or fall in love with a penniless young fellow," she said thoughtfully, oblivious to Gilbert's choke of shock. "I'm hardly likely to here, am I?"

Anne's eyes twinkled at the young woman. "Stranger things have happened, I suppose."

"To my Aunt Jemima, yes. I look rather like her- and so I have been repeatedly warned that a Gardner does not fall in love with law clerks. Again, that seems unlikely in this crowd."

Gilbert turned to answer a question of Phil, rather relieved to turn away from the surprisingly frank stranger. Anne gave her a little smile. "You and your brother are so different, Miss Gardner."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Not really. Roy has to behave like that in public, of course- the heir to the fortune, and everything that it entails. It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know." Anne caught the suddenly wistful look on her face, her own softening. "Papa left Mother alone when he died- and she never liked that. Roy was supposed to have his years at college, free of the business, free to explore the world- and instead, he's being prepared for all of this," she said flatly. "He doesn't want it- not yet, anyway. I haven't seen him laugh in a very long time."

"It must be hard to have choices taken away from him," Anne said softly, with more understanding than Dorothy could know. The girl nodded.

"Yes- although he would never have made another choice. Duty was drummed into him as a child. He would do anything for us, I believe."

There was a sign from the musicians then, and Dorothy at once shed the serious look on her face. "Mrs Blythe- oh- may I call you Anne?"

"Of course."

"And you must call me Dorothy- having more than one Miss Gardner is so painful," she said, with an unladylike groan. "Aline once took some flowers that were meant for me, you know. It caused a terrible confusion when he came to call- Aline wouldn't speak to me for a week. She does so hate to be embarrassed." She changed the subject immediately then, her smile bright. "The speeches are to be later in the evening- I'll find you in plenty of time to be ready for them. In the meantime, be sure to enjoy yourselves."

Within minutes, Anne was on her husband's arm and being swept into the crowd of people moving in the centre of the room, Phil and Jo gliding away from them. She kept pace with Gilbert easily, although her attention was often on the people around them.

"Gil, is that Professor Winston over there near the refreshments?" she whispered, startled.

Gilbert turned to see the distinctive grey head of Anne's professor and turned back comically. "Err- yes. Along with the head of the Redmond board, and the president of the Lambs, apparently." At the bewildered look from Anne, he carefully pulled her closer to him. "The Lambs are involved with every major charity in Kingsport- although I hadn't known about the orphanage."

"Good heavens- this becomes more complicated by the minute," she muttered, grey eyes mutinous. "Suppose I say the wrong thing? These are the people deciding your future, in a few months time."

"No, _I'm_ the one doing that," he said patiently. "It's my future-it's _our_ future to decide."

"But-"

He bent his head, smiling. "This is not my moment. Mine will come- but this is _yours_."

Anne rested her red head against his cheek, her breathing quick. His hand on her back was soothing, and she noticed that they had slowed considerably. She looked up into concerned hazel eyes and gave a little smile. "I feel just like I did when I recited at the White Sands Hotel, actually," she admitted, unprepared for Gilbert's huge grin.

"You were gorgeous that night," he said. "I was worried about you, at first; you were so pale I thought you might faint- and then you caught my eye, and obviously decided to show me show me what you were made of."

Anne pulled back, her voice teasing. "Do we think ourselves the centre of the universe again, Mr Blythe? What made you think that I was reacting to you?"

"Oh please," he scoffed, his voice low. "You gave me that look at school every day for five years, Anne. I knew what you were thinking- and it was that you wouldn't want to fail before me. You never have, you know."

She chuckled, relaxing a little. "Alright, I was, then. You were nodding at me."

"I was not!"

"You were! I thought you were laughing at me at the time- you and Josie Pye, of course."

There was a twinkle in his eyes, and he grinned. "Careful, that almost sounded like jealousy, Carrots."

Her laughter brought a goofy smile to his face. "Not right then. Although I could do with less of the women in this room watching you now," she said, her voice in a low growl that made him laugh again. It was true- Gilbert was looking his very best in his evening suit, every inch the gentleman that he was- and there were several young ladies watching him with undisguised admiration. Gilbert squeezed her hand in his, lowering his mouth to her ear.

"Isn't that why you wanted me to wear a wedding ring, sweetheart? I am obviously very, _very_ taken, by you."

"Mmm. _Very_ taken," she murmured.

As the selection came to an end, they had come to a stop in a less well-lit section of the room, and Anne looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with the green he loved. He caught his breath, suddenly remembering that they were in a room full of the most influential people in the city- and he pulled away, a look of intense longing on his face.

"You know, I could very easily slip into a world where it was only you and I," he said quietly.

Anne's pink lips curled into a gentle smile. "A little place far from everyone?"

"It's selfish of me, I know."

Anne moved back with a little sigh to tuck her hand under his elbow, her cheeks warming. "Things will be changing so very soon, Gil. You know that we will miss this Redmond life when it's finished."

He picked up her hand to kiss her gloved fingertips and smiled. "I know. But I'm missing you more."

She didn't need him to explain his cryptic comment, and sighed. "And I, you."

Gilbert spotted Phil and Jo standing under a floral arrangement that most likely cost more than their rent each week- and he steered Anne toward their friends. Jo turned to them both with a profound look of relief.

"I just got asked if I was related to the William Blakes of Halifax," he said in a droll undertone, making his future wife chuckle. "Their family is in diamonds, apparently."

"And what did you tell them?"

"Do I _look_ like I came from diamonds? My father is a well-respected cleric. They seemed terribly disappointed."

* * *

The refreshment tables were stationed around the room, with gleaming platters of fruit, and sparkling glasses of punch being served by trim maids. The atmosphere was bright and cordial, and every now and then Anne had to remind herself of her job for the evening- something that became unnecessary later in the evening when Dorothy led the way to a small ante-room, where several other people were waiting. Roy stepped forward, his look almost nervous.

"Mrs Blythe, Mr Blythe, I should like to introduce you to one of our other guests. May I present- Mr Neil Cross."

Anne's stare was wide at the little gentleman beside the fire, who came forward with an awkward bow, and a hesitant smile. "I'm- very pleased to meet you, Mrs Blythe. Professor Winston and Mr Gardner have told me much about you."

Anne was gripping Gilbert's hand tightly, and only released it when he whispered to her-" _Breathe,_ love."

She soon marshalled a small smile, her look quizzical toward Roy. "I- Mr Cross, I had no idea that you would be present, this evening. It's such an honour to meet you."

He only looked uncomfortable at that, and shrugged, while Roy stepped in smoothly.

"I asked Professor Winston to contact him a month ago- it took some time for the invitation to reach him. We only received confirmation from him this morning. And in truth, I hadn't wanted to raise your expectations, in case he was not able to be present."

There was a sheepish chuckle from the gentleman, then. "Emile and his confounded persuasiveness. I had no idea that anyone in the academic world knew me, apart from him."

Anne met Roy's eye, a thoroughly non-studious twinkle in them. "Your work was quite influential, sir- it sparked great debate amongst the class."

The academic looked embarrassed at the attention but nodded. "I am- pleased. Utterly mystified, of course, but pleased nonetheless."

Roy cleared his throat. "Mr Cross will not be speaking tonight- however, I have asked him to address the asylum board later in the week."

Anne could see the older gentleman's frown, and she smiled at him. "I have no doubt that you will bring a wonderful perspective to them."

"I rather doubt they will enjoy that," he muttered dryly.

"Mrs Blythe will be speaking to the guests tonight to bring another perspective," Roy added carefully. "She and her husband are both teachers, and my fellow college students-"

" _And_ I was orphaned as a baby," Anne filled in, smiling at the look of shock on the gentleman's face.

"My dear, I am so very sorry-"

Gilbert had been watching closely, and almost moved forward at this point, noticing that Roy was also tensing, and watching him nervously. Anne however, was steady- and Gilbert saw now how far she had come, from the girl who had shut down all talk of her upbringing earlier in their marriage. He made himself relax, and after a moment nodded at Roy.

The older man had her hand in his and was patting it in a fatherly manner that made both men smile. Her revelation had broken the awkwardness of the conversation, and within a minute he was talking animatedly about the writing of his book and asking Anne about her own ambitions.

Several minutes later, Roy coughed and stepped forward. "Mr Cross, Mrs Blythe, I do not wish to interrupt your conversation-"

"-however it is necessary when there is a job to be done," Anne added, her nerves gone for the moment.

"Yes. I will introduce you both to our guests before I give my report, and then I will call you to the platform, Anne. Will that be alright?"

Gilbert grinned at the mischievous look in Anne's eyes, and the proud way she stood, her hand securely in his.

"Lead on, Mr Gardner."


	39. Chapter 39, The pearl of great price

**Beloved people! I know that I've been MIA for quite some time- I have a feeling that my family would say the same, even if I have been physically present. I'm reasonably alright, and want to thank you so much to everyone who was checking up on me. It's really not been the best of seasons for our family, however, we're still here, and thanking God for both laughter and stories. And chocolate. I'm very thankful for chocolate.**

 **For the other wonderful writers who do such a wonderful job of making us laugh and cry with their stories, I'm so sorry that I haven't been able to review! Time is decidedly elusive, which is the other reason why this chapter is months late. I promise that I have been reading along, and they have been a desperately needed escape for me over the last while. (With the chocolate, too.)**

 **Thank you for still reading this mammoth of a story (really, it's getting so long I was almost too chicken to continue), and for reading the others when I became a little ghost-like on here.**

 **On a side note, can I just say a big thank you to one darling reader from whom I got one of the most hilarious messages ever- she told me that she had blackmailed her husband into reading Shore of Dreams. I absolutely killed myself laughing at that, and let me tell you, that was a blessed miracle in itself.**

 **Love to you all, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 39**

Anne's gaze roved the assembled crowd as Roy's mellifluous voice echoed from the podium. She could see the curious glances coming from those nearby, no doubt they were wondering who the unknown guest could be. She drew in a deep breath, willing the butterflies in her belly to subside. Over on her left, Gilbert stood with Phil and Jo, and her lips twitched at the sight of him. He was wrinkling his jacket terribly with the way his arms were crossed- and the tie he had taken such pains over was slightly loose now. His hazel eyes were on her though, steady and confident. She gave him a slight smile when she heard Roy speak her name, and winked at him- and was instantly rewarded with Gilbert's broad grin and a loosening of his shoulders. Phil was holding Jo's hand in a tight clasp beside Gilbert, her brow creased in concentration.

There was a slight pause, and the polite clap of gloved hands, and she turned to see Roy holding his hand out to her to ascend the platform. She held her notes in her hand carefully as he stepped back, the bright lights from the chandelier obscuring the faces of those nearby. There was a breathless moment in the silence, and her eyes flicked to Gilbert again- his curly head only nodded, and she smiled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests," she said clearly. "It is an honour to be asked to address you tonight- and on behalf of the children you support so generously, I wish to convey my gratitude. The care and provision given to these most vulnerable children will bless many generations, and our world will be rewarded when these same young men and women are embraced, educated and equipped to become valuable members of our society."

Anne paused, and out of the corner of her vision, she could see Roy stiffening, knowing that this was the part he was most nervous about. "You see, I speak from experience," she spoke, her voice carrying in the silent hall. "I was orphaned as a baby."

The sudden discomfort in the room was tangible, and Anne smiled at the people, her eyes kind. "My parents were taken from me by a virulent fever that swept through Bolingbroke when I was only three months old. I was more fortunate than many- I have letters that tell me something of who they were, and the account of a woman who once knew Walter and Bertha Shirley. They are reminders that I treasure- the knowledge that I was wanted, and deeply loved." She drew in a breath, and continued. "To say that the first ten years of my life were difficult, is an understatement. I was fortunate enough to be given a home with two families- if reluctantly- and I will never cease to be grateful that they kept me alive. I was expected to work from my board as soon as I could hold a broom, and spent most of my formative years caring for the many children the families produced- including three consecutive sets of twins in one household." There was a titter of laughter at this, and Anne smiled. "It is perhaps no wonder that I went into teaching as young adult- I have been surrounded by children for most of my life, and have found it supremely satisfying to be a part of encouraging them to learn and grow. The trouble, of course, was that I needed someone who would do that for me.

"I entered the Hopetown asylum in the winter before I turned eleven, when the family that I was living with broke up housekeeping. The orphanage was already overcrowded and poor- however, as it was clear that no one wanted me, they had little choice but to take me in." Anne took a moment to look toward Gilbert. His hands were buried deep in his pockets now, his jaw tightly clenched. The look in his eyes broke her heart. She met his eyes in apology, and cleared her throat. "Truthfully, it is a time I would rather forget," she said softly, in a silence so deep that you could hear a pin drop. "Our time in the orphanage was spent caring for the younger and infirm children, and cleaning and cooking as payment for our board. Those who were well and of age were sent to school- where I discovered a love of learning, despite the fact that I was behind my peers academically.

"I fell in love with poetry there," she said, with a twinkle in her eyes as she sought out Professor Winston, standing beside a beaming Neil Cross. "To the frustration of my teachers, the study of English came naturally to me, even if I was hopelessly behind in all other areas of my education." Anne paused, a little smile on her face. "I believe that I presented quite a challenge to those at the orphanage. I buried my nose in every book we had, from _Brewer's Guide to the Scientific Knowledge of Things Familiar_ , to Charles Johns' _Flowers of the Field_. Aside from those that I could lay my hands on, I wove fantastical stories about castles, and brave knights- and I could usually be relied upon to forget what I was supposed to be doing. Perhaps it was for this reason that I was never allowed to make the matron's tea." There was more polite laughter and Anne could see that Gilbert was calming, and gave him a little smile, before growing serious. "The fanciful, the story-like was a hiding place from the reality that I was unwanted. That thought was ingrained in me since I was very small- and I dreamed of finding a family who wanted me. I was fed and clothed and had a roof over my head, however, my heart was starving for affection. And through a mistake that I will forever be grateful to, I was sent to a brother and sister who wished to adopt a little boy." The very thought of Matthew and Marilla caused a glow of happiness to come over her, and she smiled. "I arrived at the train station at Bright River talking, and Marilla assures me that I have not stopped yet. While she and many others had concerns about adopting someone of unknown origin, the decision was made to keep me. I was sent to school and gradually began to find my feet as any child should- with people who cared for me, someone to teach me how to live; classmates to sharpen me, and a community who helped me to grow.

"These are the things that are essential for children to flourish, not merely survive," Anne stated, her eyes glittering in the lamplight. "Love, acceptance, community. It is my belief that a child will respond to the way they are treated. While it is preferable that these children are sent to loving, safe, families- I believe that we can yet foster a belief in a child's worth while still in these institutions, by treating these cast-off children as having the value and dignity of every human being- irrespective of parentage, economic status or physical appearance. I believe it is necessary to teach them that they have worth whilst they are young. By doing this, we can equip them with the confidence necessary to take their place in society." At this impassioned statement, Anne drew in a breath, her eyes softening as she looked to the crowd, many people now moving uneasily. "I was encouraged as a child to excel at my studies, and dedicated teachers made it possible for me to catch up on the work that I had missed. At Miss Stacey's suggestion, I joined a special class to prepare for the Entrance exam, with a view to becoming a teacher myself. I was accepted into the Queens academy at Charlottetown, and it was recommended that I work to get a first-class license in one year, which I was able to do.

"All this was made possible by the support I was given by my adopted family- and by the men and women of the community who sought to give me a sense of my own worth. By believing the best in me, rather than listening to rumours of the odd, red-headed orphan girl," she said, her grey eyes twinkling fondly, "by correcting me and teaching me how to value myself and others, and from my classmates, who deemed me worthy to compete with them." She smiled at her husband, who beamed at her proudly. "I was given every possible chance to succeed, then- and it is my earnest desire to inspire other vulnerable children with a love of learning, but more importantly, with a sense of value for who they are, for the people they will become. Every life is important," Anne spoke over the crowd deliberately. "Every child is worth investing in, believing in. It is my hope that together, we can give these children not only the food, shelter and clothing that they need, but also something to hope for, and believe in for themselves. As patrons; as surrogate mothers and fathers to the unloved and unwanted, and as their teachers and peers.

Thank you."

In the wake of the sudden applause from the crowd, Roy stepped up to thank her for her contribution, and at his word, the musicians began to play again. The crowd once again turned to each other, beginning to talk in low voices. Anne breathed a sigh of relief as Roy assisted her down in her heavy gown, and she received his mother's polite (if stiff) thanks. As the older woman turned away, Anne hesitated, and then swiftly obeyed the impulse that seized her. She slipped behind a tall potted palm and through the door back into the empty sitting room. She leant back against the door, thankful to be away from the bright lights. For a moment then she allowed herself to breathe, and even laugh at herself, a little. She sat down on a sofa, gazing blankly at the flickering fire. She had only met Neil Cross in this room a short time ago. What had he thought of her speech? Did he agree with what she had said?

Or would people blame her for the manner in which she had spoken of her past?

Anne's hand trembled as she tucked a loose curl behind one ear, trying to stop her imagination from conjuring reproachful looks from various benevolent people she had once known. Mrs Hammond, Mrs Thomas and her old matron- the one who had given her the chance to go to the island.

It wasn't ingratitude, she reminded herself sternly. Her own misery at the Hopetown Asylum aside; she could remember only too clearly the pale, wan looks of the older children there, the childish spirit so swiftly disciplined out of those who were younger. The children who could not yet talk, who flinched when older voices were raised- Anne swallowed hard, her eyes glittering. No; it was _necessary_ to speak up. Perhaps someone in this crowd would hear, and they would have the ability-

The door opened, and she looked up to see Roy holding it ajar for Gilbert. He wore a slight smile, however, his hazel eyes were sharp.

"Could you give us a moment?" she heard him ask.

Roy inclined his head. "Certainly. Although I will not be able to hold them off for long."

The door closed, and Anne's gaze followed her husband as he crossed the room to her side. When he reached for her, Anne turned to nestle into his waistcoat, a few unexpected tears seeping through the fabric as he held her tightly. "Hey, now," he whispered, and she felt him move to search for his handkerchief. After a moment, Anne pulled away with a little chuckle and opened Gilbert's jacket to pull out the handkerchief he had placed there just hours ago.

"You are a man who will conquer the world, dearest. Why on earth do you struggle to remember what you put in your pockets?"

"My mind is occupied with more important things," he protested, taking the cloth from her to dab her eyes inexpertly. After laughing at his attempts, Anne took it from him to finish the job, sighing when he took her face in his hands to kiss her forehead. His look was gentle.

"That was harder to do than I thought it might be."

Gilbert's smile twisted, and he touched his nose to hers. "Well, I'm so proud of you that I could burst," he said firmly. "You had them all in the palm of your hand, just as I knew you would."

Anne's look was disbelieving, and Gilbert's eyebrow rose. "What do you think Roy is doing out there right now? Holding the crowd back. We saw you leave the room, and thought you might have needed a moment."

"I _did_ ," Anne said dryly, her eyes closing as he wrapped an arm around her. "I'm- just overwhelmed. It was one thing to tell people who knew me of my past- and quite another to tell the people who don't. And highly influential people, at that."

Gilbert chuckled. "You've never been one to be overawed at important people, Anne."

"When they directly influence the futures of children just like myself?" she retorted, following her words with an odd sigh. "I keep wondering if I said enough, or if I said too much-"

He cut her off with his mouth firmly against hers, his touch calming as he scooped her onto his lap in the privacy of the dim room. "You were perfect."

"You're biased."

"Yes. However, the people outside are not- and everyone wants to talk to you." Gilbert met her startled grey eyes and grinned. "Roy was besieged by people wanting to meet young Mrs Blythe. He's holding them off until you're ready to see them."

Anne drew in a deep breath and smiled faintly. "Oh. Well, it may as well be now."

"You're sure?"

"I'm not planning to come back and do this again," she said candidly, making Gilbert laugh as he placed her back on her feet. "I shouldn't have disappeared."

"Anne-girl, of everyone here tonight, I'd like to think that I understand a bit of what it costs you to do this. I'm so proud of you- and especially of _why_ you are doing it. And one day, you might just stir one of these people into doing something about it."

* * *

As Roy predicted, over the next hour, Gilbert stood by her side as they met enough people to set Anne's head spinning. The board of the orphanage was in attendance, and all wished Mr Gardner to introduce them to the guest speaker. Some, of course, were cautious in their praise; after all, she had never visited the Kingsport Asylum herself, had she? It was a _very_ genteel place. Others inquired after the family Anne had lost, and her future plans; and her hand was grasped by yet another elderly gentleman, who thanked her with tears in his eyes.

Gilbert had not exaggerated the demand for young Mrs Blythe's attentions. Wealthy, well-connected people, politicians and pretty socialites all came to greet her; the latter, Anne suspected, were eager to take advantage of her proximity to the young Gardner heir. She received approving comments about her dress, appreciation for her unique perspective, and questions about how someone with Anne's background was able to work toward a college degree. Gilbert's eyes twinkled at the predictable surprise from some that Anne and he were married and fellow students with Roy, however as eyes turned from Anne to her rather dashing husband, most of the women couldn't help looking rather enviously at the tall, red-headed girl. Gilbert was at his most charming with both young and old, and Anne scowled at him for poking fun at her stately manner- especially in the face of the simpering young ladies.

"You are enjoying this entirely too much."

"Of course I am," he admitted, grinning. "I love it when you get riled up. I thought you were going to set that last girl on fire with your glare."

Anne huffed, glad for a moment of respite from the crowd. "She looked as if she was sizing you up for a suit, Gil."

"I like the one I have, thank you." He looked around them, and a bored groan left him. "Do none of these people grow tired of the fuss?"

Anne could see the look on Roy's face as another hopeful debutante was presented to him nearby, and she fought to rein in a giggle. "I should say that they do- oh, poor Roy and Dorothy."

Christine Stuart soon swung by the couple with another of her brother's approved escorts, waving coyly at Gilbert on her way past. She had swept up to them earlier in the evening with a breezy greeting, magnificent in deep-orange silk. There was a brief moment of amused congratulation, and she threw a teasing comment toward Roy before allowing herself to be drawn out to the dance again. Curiously enough, Dorothy was rather cool to her, as Anne noted. The youngest Miss Gardner had kept up an amusing commentary of the various people who came and went, one that had Phil in stitches- and Anne couldn't help but laugh at the antics of the two girls, foreseeing that Dorothy's addition to the social crowd at Patty's Place would happen quickly.

A short time later, while Gilbert was talking with the president of the Lambs and a professor she had seen around Redmond, Professor Winston approached her, having waited for the throngs of people to disperse.

"Well done, Anne. It's not easy to address this crowd," he said cheerfully.

"You speak from experience, Professor?"

He shrugged. "Far too often, for my taste. Still, colleges must compete for scholarships." He turned to her then, frowning. "Speaking of which, I reviewed scholarship applicants from Queens last week- and was most surprised to discover that _you_ were an Avery scholarship recipient, six years ago."

Anne blinked at him, startled. "Well- yes."

"Why on earth didn't you use it?"

Anne paused, swallowing. "It was a matter of timing, sir. Soon after I won the scholarship, my- Matthew died. I couldn't leave Marilla alone- and so I refused the scholarship to stay with her."

The older man was silent for a moment. "Did you know what you were giving up, child?" he asked, bewildered. "Several thousand dollars worth of tuition-"

There was the familiar hint of green in Anne's grey eyes, and her chin rose. "I knew _exactly_ what I was giving up, Professor. It was the right thing to do. And I still came here, just as soon as I was free to do so."

There was a slight smile on Professor Winston's face, as he regarded one of his best students. "I suppose two years hardly matters, at your age. Besides- I imagine Mr Blythe might not have fancied being several years behind you."

Anne made to answer, however she stopped and smiled at the sound of Gilbert's chuckle nearby. "He would have been very happy for me," she said. "However, I believe it has all worked out for the best."

"Do you honestly think so?"

Anne glanced at the professor in surprise. "Yes. Of course."

"Even with having to marry him under threat of expulsion?"

Anne turned to him then, a look of steel on her face. "I am not saying that Professor Hallett's 'punishment' was either necessary or right- I would _never_ agree to that- and yet I do believe that for Gilbert and I, that it was the right thing to choose- and we are very happy that we did so."

Professor Winston was thoughtful and finally nodded. "I confess, I am relieved that you see it that way. It weighed on me to see you pushed into that situation."

There was a pause then, and Anne looked out on the people, her thoughts now racing as someone approached the professor from his other side. Where would they have been by now if she had not gone into that tent, that day? Still at Patty's Place with the girls? Would Gilbert still have been working toward medical school? Perhaps- somehow- they might have been together by now.

She was startled to find her hand seized and pumped energetically by Mr Cross then, who beamed at her across her professor.

"Mrs Blythe, that was truly wonderful! No wonder Emile wants you to write- you did write about this, didn't you? To think that in this day and age- well, it wasn't too much worse when I was a boy, I must admit," he admitted openly. "Young Mr Gardner has some good ideas- not that ideas alone will help the children. I admit I was more concerned with them being adopted out quicker than I was about the impact of time spent living in that place- and yet both sides must be addressed, don't you think? Perhaps you would be interested in coming to my presentation to the board on Tuesday evening."

Gilbert must have had some sense that he was needed, and Anne felt him come behind her, his hand gentle on her waist. She looked up at him with a faintly bewildered expression, to see him nod at the other gentleman. "I think that depends on the demands of college, sir. Are we busy then, Anne?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, she gathered her thoughts to smile at the older man. "We are engaged on Tuesday night, I am afraid. However, if you would like to come for supper on Monday evening, Gilbert and I will be at home- and we can discuss your presentation then if you would like."

He nodded. "Quite right! I mustn't keep you from your studies- Emile won't thank me for that, will you, old fellow?"

There was a little more conversation then on Neil's soon-to-be-published book, and then the two older gentlemen moved away to the refreshment table, leaving Gilbert and Anne alone.

"Thank you," she said, in relief. "He just surprised me. I really have no desire to be there, that night."

"It was quick thinking on your part. Or are we really busy on Tuesday?"

Anne chuckled, then, reaching up to adjust his tie. "We really are. The graduation committee is meeting at the Mushroom, remember?"

Gilbert's eyebrows flew up. "Ah- I'd forgotten."

"You were the one who invited them into our home, Mr President," she teased quietly, before noticing that one of the gentlemen she had seen talking to Gilbert was approaching. His nod to her was polite, however, his attention immediately turned to her husband.

"Must go, I'm afraid- I don't handle these late nights the way you young folk can. Blythe, come and see me on Monday morning. The Aster building at eight."

"Certainly, sir."

The older gentleman then took Anne's hand, his smile amused. "It's been a pleasure to see your work, Mrs Blythe. Winston is right to be proud. And if I may say so, I very much look forward to seeing what the pair of you can accomplish together."

* * *

The moon was high when the Gardner coachman left a yawning Phil and Jo at Patty's Place, and Anne settled back in the darkness of the carriage to watch Gilbert. His curly head was laid back against the seat, and he had closed his eyes, making her smile. The sway of the carriage and the steady clip of the horses' hooves was soothing, and Anne slipped her slippers off to stretch her toes luxuriously after the ache of the unforgiving marble tiles. She snuggled into his side as they wound down the hill, thinking of the conversation she had had with her professor. Surely, they would have ended up in this place together anyway- surely her heart would eventually have understood how dear Gilbert was to her!

Anne dreamily watched the street lamps flicker as they drove by. Perhaps it would have happened at a dance- or a quiet night at Patty's Place when she would have glanced up to see him looking at her with the glance that was only for her. Little touches, little moments- the _almost_ -kisses that Gilbert had teased her about, making her laugh and blush at her own obliviousness over the years. What if he had done it? She felt him stir beside her, and his brown curls brushed her cheek.

"And just what has you smiling like that?" he murmured.

Her smile blossomed further, and she turned to him in the moving carriage. "Oh, I was just wondering how you and I might have come together, if not for the scandal and enforced marriage."

Gilbert chuckled. "I'm just thankful that it happened."

"No, it would have in any case," Anne said thoughtfully. "I'm quite sure of that. I didn't fall in love with you after we were married- that was all well in place beforehand."

Only minutes later, the coachman was helping Anne from the carriage, tipping his hat respectfully at the pair before he drove away. Anne wrapped her coat around her snugly and reached for Gilbert's gloved hand, tiptoeing past the windows of the boardinghouse that were gradually being overtaken by ivy. The stones crunched underfoot as they made their way to the Mushroom, the gate squeaking terribly.

"I really must oil that," he muttered, wincing at the sound- only for it to be overtaken by a louder one, as the clock in their sitting room began to chime midnight. Anne giggled as her husband's face blanched.

"For Pete's sake, the whole neighbourhood will hear us go in!" he muttered, hunting for his keys. " _Why_ we keep that clock, I don't know."

Anne hopped up and down on aching feet, shivering. "It belonged to Mrs Whitley's grandfather- we can't just be rid of it. Good heavens, Gil, just open the door!"

He wrenched it open just as the last chimes rang into the night, and the couple jumped when a lamp instantly flickered on in one of the back windows of the big house. Gilbert groaned as he saw a familiar figure wrench open the curtains, a harsh silhouette against the light. In a trice he had dragged Anne inside, closing and locking the door with a viciousness that made her double over in laughter.

"He's hardly going to come down here at this time of the night, darling," she said in an attempt to placate him, untangling the train of her gown from her feet.

"I wouldn't put it past him," he grumbled, a grin twisting on his lean face. He took the coat from her and moved to remove his own, musing that he was grateful that he had at least kept the fire burning. His satisfaction, however, gave way to horror at the sound of someone's feet pounding against the path only a minute later, and Anne and Gilbert stared comically at the door.

" _BLYTHE_!" Charlie Sloane's voice bellowed.

In a lunge, Gilbert opened the door to drag his irate friend inside. "What are you doing, making that ungodly noise at this hour?" he hissed.

Anne fought to suppress an ill-timed giggle, watching Charlie's face darken, as he pulling the lapels of his dressing gown over his nightshirt together waspishly. "You are in no position to complain! Or is your social life more important than allowing folks around here to get some sleep?"

Gilbert breathed deeply, trying to hold his irritation at bay. "Charlie, we just arrived home-"

"I _never_ thought I would see the day when people from Avonlea would be so inconsiderate- and to someone who has known you a lot longer than that fellow you've been socializing with! I've got a good mind to go to Mrs Wheatley about the ludicrous hours the pair of you keep-"

"Charles-"

"And was it _necessary_ to have his infernal carriage drop you off to the front door? The noise at this time of night is _completely_ uncalled for!"

"You do realise that you're the one shouting, don't you?" Gilbert pointed out.

At this juncture Anne stepped in, seeing that Charlie was inflating with anger rapidly. "We are terribly sorry, Charlie- the benefit ran rather late, you see. You may go right back to bed, and we promise that you will hear nothing further from us tonight. How was your dinner with Miss Stendhal this evening?" she asked desperately, hoping that this would be a pleasant distraction. She had, however, miscalculated.

At this, Charlie's expression became aloof, and he folded his arms across his chest. "The food was tolerable. However, for your information, the lady and I have decided that it is better for us to remain colleagues."

Gilbert exchanged a look with Anne, then. "I'm- sorry, Charlie."

Charlie glared down his long nose. "You needn't be. It was a completely mutual decision."

"Really?"

"Yes. Madeline was most clear on that," he said stiffly. "It's for the best. My mother would prefer me to marry someone who is from the island, in any case."

In the awkward silence, Anne clasped her hands together, detecting real hurt in his goggling eyes. "Charlie, perhaps- would you like to come to tea tomorrow? We can talk about it more if you wish- although I am sure that you would like to have a good night's sleep first," she said kindly.

Their guest seemed to suddenly realise that he was standing in someone's house in a nightshirt and slippers, and tightened his robe with as much dignity as he could muster. "I accept. I will see you tomorrow."

Anne watched him open their door and stalk back toward the boardinghouse in the moonlight, before closing it behind him in bewilderment. "I could have sworn that we were at a ball just half an hour ago. Did Charlie Sloane really just happen?"

"He did," Gilbert replied brightly, moving to put the kettle on the stove. "If that doesn't push us back into the realities life again, I don't know what will."

Anne chuckled, reaching up to tug a pin from her red hair. Gilbert leant back against the counter, maneuvering her against his chest as he went after the rest of them. He worked in silence for a moment, feeling the tension seep from her body as her hair tumbled down her back. When he was done, he ran his fingers through the thick locks, smiling at the deep sigh that went through her. "Better?"

She hummed in satisfaction, and pushed away from him with a little smile, telling him that she would be back after she had changed into her nightgown.

Gilbert pulled teacups from the shelf and busied himself by stoking the fire. These little late-night suppers were becoming one of his favourite times of the day, as their schedules grew busier- and even the pleasure of having her on his arm that night did little for the desire to have Anne all to himself. He followed her into the bedroom to change, grinning at the sound of her humming a waltz through the door of the annexe.

By the time Anne reappeared in the living room in her creamy nightgown, Gilbert had spread cushions and blankets before the fire, and a tray carrying bread and butter beside him. A steaming teapot sat on the hearth, and he looked up with a grin at her soft chuckle.

"You didn't eat enough at the party tonight?"

"Not even close. And _you_ didn't eat anything- or not that I saw, love."

"Oh, Dorothy made sure that I had some fruit between people."

She was quiet then as he buttered the bread, and he studied her surreptitiously. "You know, I was thinking that tonight could open up all kinds of opportunities for you," he said carefully. "I had some very influential people asking me what the celebrated Mrs Blythe intended to do after college."

Anne shook her head, her pale face sober. "I didn't do it for that reason, you know that."

Gilbert sighed, reaching back to pull her into his side. "No. But that doesn't mean something couldn't come out of it."

She took her time pouring the tea, before meeting concerned eyes. "I _did_ want to escape back to real life, tonight. Not for the reasons you might think," she corrected, with a small smile on her face. "Roy and Dorothy were lovely, and even Mrs Gardner improved in civility as the night went on." She ignored Gilbert's snort and continued. "It wasn't even the speech. I- just couldn't see that tonight would make any difference, doing things their way. The governors, the patrons; they exist in a foreign world to those children. I don't doubt that their intentions are good- but Roy was right that it won't be simple. Some of the board tonight asked me to defend my position that things needed to change- they asked what I could possibly know- and one of their wives even suggested that as a married woman, perhaps my time could better be spent looking after my own household rather than attending college with you!" she said crossly.

Gilbert laughed and bent to kiss her red head, his arm around her waist. "Come on, you know that attitude is fast dying out. Even Mrs Lynde is bragging about you getting your BA soon. Why care for the opinions of the few?"

Anne chuckled, slipping down to lay her head against his flannel pyjama-clad leg. "I don't, really. And most of the people were kind. I suppose I was thinking more about the future- of other girls who are in that orphanage, longing for a chance to prove themselves."

He ran his fingers through her red curls, his look warm. "We'll find them, Anne."

"We?" she murmured, turning to look at the face above her.

Gilbert only shrugged. "Yes, we. We're involved now, sweetheart. You were planning to go there anyway- did you think I'd let you do it alone?"

"I _could_ -"

"Of course you could. But you don't need to." He smiled, picking up his mug of tea. "Did I tell you that the Head of the Cooper committee was there tonight?"

Anne groaned. "Gil, tell me it wasn't someone that I inadvertently offended."

"On the contrary. He told me I was a very lucky man. You impressed him very much."

" _You_ are the one who is supposed to be impressing him!"

"Please, that was never in doubt," he scoffed, laughing at the lazy swat Anne aimed at his shoulder. "I told you, tonight wasn't about me- although I can't deny that being there tonight would have looked good."

Anne sat up then, a slight frown on her face. "I suppose so." She seemed to struggle to find the words then, as she gave a small sigh. "It worked, then."

"What did?"

"Us marrying."

Gilbert's eyebrow rose, and he teasingly tugged on the curls that brushed his shoulder. "I rather thought that the two of us being head over heels in love and _happy_ meant that it worked."

"Of course, that," she said impatiently, turning to face him. "I meant, as far as the college is concerned. Professor Daniels took a situation that could have easily been catastrophic for you and me, and not only made us respectable but influential, so to speak."

"I'm not seeing the negative side of that," Gilbert said mildly.

He smiled as Anne shifted herself to settle herself sleepily between his legs on the floor, cuddling back against his broad chest. His arms surrounded her, as he waited for her to continue. "You and I- we grew together, _here_."

"Yes."

"I'm not ungrateful," she said slowly. "And perhaps people are right. Perhaps tonight proves that we can seriously think about all that we might accomplish together. However, I confess that I am more interested in who we are together, rather than what we will do out _there_."

"Well, so am I," Gilbert said logically.

Anne was quiet for so long that he had begun to wonder if she needed to go to sleep when she suddenly spoke. "Would it be so terrible for us to imagine a life that doesn't contain the exploits people seem to expect of us, but just a lifetime of quiet happiness?"

He was silent before the crackling fire, thinking. Finally, he shifted her heavy curls over one shoulder to nuzzle her neck, his arms wrapping around her tightly. "Our future can be whatever we want it to be, sweetheart," he murmured. "All of it. Perhaps we're just tired, right now- that won't always be the case."

"I don't know that it's tiredness," she said stubbornly, turning in his arms to study his face. "When I think about the girl I was; the grand dreams of what I could do in this world- I wonder if I was trying to prove something to myself. That I was worth saving." His hands squeezed her waist then, hazel eyes darkening in compassion. Anne smiled though, smoothing over his puckered forehead with her fingertips. "I was looking around the ballroom tonight, complete with diamond sunbursts and marble halls, of all things," she jested, loving the way his sudden laughter moved through her. "And I couldn't help thinking that whatever we accomplish- whatever great things we are expected to do with what we have been given, it won't eclipse what we already have here."

"I know." Gilbert's smile twisted as his forehead touched hers. "This was my dream, love. Long ago- long before I had any right to do so, I dreamt of a home with a hearth-fire, a cat and a dog, the footsteps of friends, and _you_."

"You have most of those things now," she whispered, blushing a little as his hands pulled her onto his lap snugly. "Even the cat."

He laughed then, knowing that Rusty was skulking around the stove for warmth. "Much to my eternal surprise, yes." He pressed a hard kiss to her waiting lips, before turning to lay his wife on the rug, his arms surrounding her slim form. "He was right- I'm the luckiest man alive." He pulled back to stare into her grey-green eyes, his heart melting at the tenderness he found there. "We're going to have a good life together," he said quietly, much as he had fifteen months earlier. "We'll work hard. We'll see our dreams fulfilled, and as many of our ambitions as we can fit in. But _this_ here, you and I, is what I want more than anything."

Anne's reply was not in words and the faint guilt that had followed her through the past weeks abated. The fire crackled and popped comfortingly as the couple lay together with quiet laughter and teasing kisses under the quilts, and the delight of precious time together. When the clock chimed two in the morning, the couple lay sound asleep on their makeshift bed, with a strong arm as Anne's pillow. Gilbert had wrapped himself around her tightly, his hand snuggling peacefully between her breasts as the fire gradually died down to glowing embers. Rusty prowled around the pair when all was still, disdaining the blankets that Gilbert had dragged over them. Eventually, he left them in peace to find his own slumber.

He slept on Gilbert's pillow instead.


	40. Chapter 40, To Those Who Wait

**Beautiful people! I'm so sorry for being MIA for so long- but I assure you, I am very much alive! Thank you for all of your encouraging words, and thank you all for understanding that at times Real Life just gets in the way- and it was COMPLETELY in the way this time. We've moved house (and for a laugh for all of you international peoples, I've actually moved into a house where KANGAROOS ACTUALLY JUMP DOWN THE STREET AND POOP ON MY LAWN! Crazy- and my beagles are utterly bewildered at the huge things) It's a quiet and _peaceful_ place, and we're loving it as a family. I've missed you all- but I'm getting a little better at self care, even if the sacrifice is long hours before the computer while the household sleeps.**

 **This story has been a challenging one to wind down, and I've second-guessed myself more than you could believe about it. A very big part of me thinks that I should have finished it when Anne told Gil that she loved him- story-wise it would work better; however I had so much more planned, and didn't want to NOT tell that story. So I hope you indulge me by telling you how this Anne and Gil play out, and it will be yet a few more chapters.**

 **For everyone new who has followed, favourited and messaged, and for everyone who checked in with me at times, thank you. I'd never think that I'd outgrown this community- you all bring me so much joy- It's only that I couldn't keep up. And if one distant day I finally manage to publish something that is all my own, it will be a testament to the first people who read my work- and what I've written on here is a thank you to you all for believing in me.**

 **Especially this chapter… enjoy!**

* * *

Anne stood outside of the science building one Friday afternoon in March, idly watching a pair of birds arguing in the hedges. In the distance a group of girls was leaving through the gates chattering merrily, and as she waited Anne smiled, thinking of herself, Phil, Priscilla and Stella just three years earlier. The girls, who even now were enduring Mrs Gordon's visit with the seamstress for the approaching wedding.

She turned at the sound of the heavy doors finally opening, and broke into a big smile at the sight of Gilbert striding out, his curly hair disheveled after the latest exam he was required to sit. She moved to be caught in his arms, his tired grin and warm hug welcome.

"You're late," she murmured, despite not looking particularly troubled.

" _You_ try convincing your professor that he's not going to get us both full-time. He just tried to get me on the 'necessity of being well-rounded' argument again."

Anne laughed, her arms tightening around his neck when he kissed her cheek. "The Cooper winner has to be well-rounded, Gil- you told me that yourself."

"Which is why I sat an English exam. And I think yours truly acquitted himself reasonably well," Gilbert said philosophically. "I was told there should be no reason to fail, after being married to you."

Anne snorted, turning to take his arm as they walked to the entrance gates. "For heaven's sake, do they think I could pass one of your mathematics exams because of you?" She ignored his shout of laughter, and scowled. "Sharing a marriage bed hardly imparts academic knowledge." There was no mistaking the warm look in Gilbert's eyes then, and Anne turned away, her cheeks flushing hotly.

Gilbert merely kissed her pink cheek, keeping his smile to himself at the sight of her so flustered, even after so many months together. "Anyway, only two left, sweetheart," he said lightly. "History and chemistry."

Anne's pace slowed as they entered the park. "Until finals begin."

"After this, the finals will be rather anticlimactic." There was a companionable silence for a time, with Gilbert darting surreptitious glances at his wife from time to time, something Anne had not noticed in her enjoyment of the early spring day.

"It really is almost warm, now," she mused, watching the movement of the new leaves on the maples. "There are flowers coming out behind the house- I thought I might see about making a small garden in the soft ground along the fence tomorrow morning. Mrs Whitley told me that she has some plants that she wants to divide."

"Alright. Let me know if you want some help," Gilbert said absently.

Anne turned to him, her eyebrow quirked. "Are you really here with me, Gil?"

"Hmm? Oh- yes. Just thinking."

Anne gave him an indulgent glance, and pulled him along the winding pathways. "It's time for that to stop, beloved- you need to give that enormous brain a rest. Phil wants us to join them in a game tonight-"

"I told her we wouldn't be there."

Anne stopped, her eyebrows raised. "I beg your pardon?"

"Anne, we had this conversation," he said, bewildered. "I said that I had to talk to you tonight, and that it would be best to stay at home."

The stern schoolmarm-look was in her grey eyes then, and he halted foolishly. "I assure you, we did not have that conversation, Gilbert. I made a cake to take there tonight."

"I'll eat every piece of it myself," he averred. "Anne, we were in the lunchroom today, and I said-"

"I didn't take lunch there today, Gil," she said patiently. "I had a late class with Professor Tabbot. Is there another red-headed wife that you told this to, perhaps?" He laughed sheepishly, while Anne crossed her arms. "You didn't say anything to me."

He began to laugh, capturing one of her hands again in silent apology. "I'm sorry. Maybe I just thought about telling you, and assumed that I'd done it."

"Suppose you tell the _real_ me, then."

Gilbert rubbed his tired face, and smiled. "Anne, would you mind if we skipped Patty's Place tonight?"

"No- although I do expect an explanation, especially since I told Stella that we would be coming," she chided gently.

"But Phil knows that we _aren't_ , love. I'm sure they'll compare notes at some point."

"Just like we did?"

"Like we are." Gilbert's thumb found the smooth pearl ring under Anne's gloves as they walked, and he sighed. "You know that I spent some time with Professor Elston this week." He didn't miss the way that Anne stiffened, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "He's the current head of the medical program."

"I know."

"Professor Daniels suggested that I go and see him- after the rather lengthy conversation I had with him last week."

They had been walking along the pathway together, and she stopped suddenly to face him, the look of hurt in her grey eyes making his heart clench. "You didn't tell me about this, either."

"For a good reason," he said firmly, although his face was gentle. "I've been talking about a change in direction for months- and you still don't seem confident that I want this. I know that it seemed sudden to you in December, but it wasn't. And so I've just come from spending the past two days with the medical students."

Anne pulled her hand away, shaking. She moved to sit on a faded park bench, and he sat beside her, working to draw her arm close to his chest. A light breeze ruffled his hair, and he studied her face as he waited.

"You didn't tell me a thing, Gilbert," she whispered, and he sighed.

"I know. But whenever it came to this subject, I've _been_ trying to tell you, love. You didn't seem to believe me. And I didn't know if that was because you wanted me to continue on this path, or if you had just decided that I must still want medical school after all-" he said, with an attempt at lightness. Anne refused to look at him then, and he stopped to tip her pointed chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb sliding over her cheek. "It's alright, you know. I didn't expect this to be easy."

"Why not?"

Gilbert wryly laughed. "Well, it's us, isn't it? We had our plans. And that day in the tent shot them all to pieces. And you know that I'm not even a little sorry." She smiled then, drawing her hand away from him only to lean her glossy red head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, searching for the words. "We fought to keep our plans on track through everything," he continued, slowly. "You've fought even harder than I have, for my sake- and I know exactly what you sacrificed for me, Carrots."

Anne tipped her head up, her look stubborn. "I'm not sorry, either."

"I know that." Gilbert swallowed, feeling oddly vulnerable in the face of her determination. "You asked me to be sure, for _me_. This was me making sure. I didn't want you to be anxiously waiting at home to see how it went- and I needed to stop second guessing myself. So I chose to do two days with the medical faculty."

Anne gave her head a slight shake, her look bewildered. "What about your classwork?"

"I'm leagues ahead in everything," he said, in an indifferent tone that made her choke in surprise. "Daniels suggested that I do it."

* * *

Professor Daniels had suggested more than that of course- Gilbert had known exactly what to expect when he spoke with his mentor.

"After _everything_ we had to do to keep you here at college-," Daniels had stormed in the privacy of his office. "The reputations you had to rebuild, the work and time you've put in- you cannot just throw this away!"

Gilbert bit back the retort he longed to make, keeping his voice steady. "I'm throwing nothing away, sir. Plans have simply altered."

"Did you get that girl pregnant? Is that what is motivating this _change_?"

Gilbert straightened up, his eyes blazing. "Professor, remember that 'that girl' is my _wife_ ," he enunciated carefully. "By courtesy of the university. Had we chosen to begin a family when we married fifteen months ago, we would have been well within any moral or ethical framework that Professor Hallett or you could conjure. We didn't do it, though, did we? Perhaps you want to know how we managed that?"

"Blythe, that's- that's not necessary," he growled, falling heavily into his chair.

"No, it's not," Gilbert retorted, eyeballing his professor. "Sir, Anne and I have have prioritized our education every step of the way. You _know_ that. You did everything you could to keep us here, and for that, we're grateful. But we told you then that the college would not dictate our life together."

"Blythe, the _Cooper_ -"

"I'm still trying for it. I just won't be using it for medical school," Gilbert said, with finality.

Daniels choked, and threw his hands in the air. "You could have been great. You could have chosen to lead the research into infectious diseases- I've kept up with the work you've been doing with Wiseman."

"The work isn't just being done by doctors, but by scientists, too," Gilbert argued. "Wiseman doesn't have a medical degree."

"No. He does have the highest degree that this university offers, though."

"Then tell me why can't I use the Cooper for that?"

Daniels stopped in his tracks, bewildered, and Gilbert gave a sigh of exasperation. "Look, I never planned to give up on the Cooper- assuming that I can actually win it. Medical school is just no longer my goal. I'm planning to teach."

"Teach what?"

"Well, I thought I'd like what _you_ do," Gilbert answered mildly, and the professor blinked. The tension in the room went up a notch, and Professor Daniels eyed Gilbert calculatingly.

"Mathematics?"

"Among the sciences, yes. Chemistry would be my first choice," he said coolly. "Although most high schools have a generalized science program-"

" _High School teaching?"_

"Well, I can hardly go for your job yet, sir."

The older man snorted then, finally relaxing. "Bold, Blythe, very bold."

"Look, you've had me tutoring dozens of students since I've been here. I was a teacher back home for two years before that. I know my way around a classroom- and I know that it's possible that more students would aim for university if they were correctly taught in their earlier years. I want to do that. If it wasn't for good teachers, Anne and I might never have gone higher than our schoolhouse in Avonlea."

"Would have been a waste," the professor muttered.

"Quite," Gilbert replied cheerfully. He hesitated then, and fiddled with the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. "Sir, I don't want to give up the chance to use the Cooper. I've been looking into the other post-graduate programs Redmond offers."

"If you planned on studying, why not just stick with medicine?"

Gilbert deliberated for a moment, and shrugged. "It's not the same thing. You know what medical school entails. I'd be gone from morning till night in classes, and at the hospital. I couldn't work, as well. And what would Anne do in the meantime? Keep house for a poor college student, or try to convince someone that a married woman is still eligible to teach school?"

"No decent school will bother to hire a married, female teacher," Daniels said flatly. "Not if there is every chance she wouldn't finish the year out. And you don't want her in the kind of school that is desperate enough to take the chance."

Gilbert rolled his eyes at this comment. "Sir, I wouldn't tell Anne what she can and can't do. That isn't how we work. She would do this for my sake- if I wanted it. But I don't. Not enough to put us through another three long years of college when I would be absent most of the time, and she would have the pressure of making ends meet on her shoulders."

"Well, when you put it like _that_ ," Professor Daniels grumbled, scowling. "You know that none of this would have happened if you both hadn't been so idiotic."

Gilbert's smile was real then. "It's too late to change anything now- not that I would."

Daniels huffed for a moment, and then gave the best student Redmond had seen in a decade an appraising look. "What will you do, then?"

"I'll start applying for schools in April."

"Back on the island?"

"Actually, I'd prefer Kingsport," Gilbert stated, much to the professor's surprise. "If we stay- I want to continue to work with Wiseman on our research in my spare time."

Daniels frowned. "Why? By then you'll have the pressure of a family to support."

Gilbert rubbed his hands over his tired face, weary of the same arguments that had played in his mind for the past year. "Sir, Anne lost her parents to scarlet fever when she was three months old. My father lost three years of his life to tuberculosis- not to mention that I lost three years of schooling to go to Alberta with him. We were both directly affected by some of the diseases that Wiseman and his team are working on," he said stubbornly. "It isn't just doctors fighting illness, it's scientists too. And if I can enable other students to enter the fight as well- isn't that just as good a purpose for my life?"

There was a pause then, as Daniels assessed him curiously. "Perhaps."

* * *

In the present, Gilbert glanced at his wife, who had slim hands clasped over her knee, rosy lips pressed together as she studied him. "Where did you go?" she teased softly.

Gilbert exhaled, his fingers playing with the loose curl under her hat. "Not far, I promise."

Anne gave him an indulgent look, and asked- "How was it?"

Gilbert paused deliberately, crossing one ankle over his knee. "Medical school? It was- good. I learned how to splint various breaks- how to recognize atypical heart rhythms- and I even accompanied the class down to the dissection room today."

Anne couldn't help but chuckle, wrinkling her pretty nose. "Which explains the scent of carbolic acid on your clothing. I assumed it was from the chemistry lab."

"It's not really so different a field, you know," he said absently. "Not with the ways that the faculties are working together now."

Anne had her second wind by now, and she turned to nestle closer to his heart. "I'm sorry." At his confused look, her eyes fell. "For not truly hearing you. I was afraid that you were doing it for me- and that you might resent me for it, one day." He met her eyes, shaking his head. She hesitated, her eyes falling to the hand he held in his own. "And what was your conclusion?"

"That I made the right decision. Well, right for this version of me, anyhow."

"As if there was any other!"

Gilbert grinned. "I've enough imagination to picture a 'me' who was still raring to go." He hesitated, the faintest resignation in his manner. "It was fascinating. I spoke with some of the students from each year, heard their horror stories- patients who accused them of not knowing what they were doing, hospital staff working them to the death after a nightmarish day of classes- even corpses that won't behave themselves."

"I beg your pardon?" Anne inquired, her voice slightly higher than usual.

"Something about residual nerves, I think." Gilbert exhaled and turned back to her, his lean face sober. "In another life, I would have loved it. But I don't believe it's for me, now."

"How can you be sure?"

He pulled her close to him and kissed her soundly, pausing to draw back to study her eyes. "I told you- I've got another vision of the future- and I want it more. One where we start to make a difference in lives right now- me as a teacher- and you as whatever you want to be, sweetheart. As a teacher, as a mentor to children who don't have parents to guide them- or as a writer."

Anne's lashes were low, and she felt her cheeks heat as she moved close to him. "Or as a mother."

At that, Gilbert's handsome face flushed, and he scooped his wife up to place her on his lap, ignoring the ominous creak of the old park bench under them. "Or _that_ ," he mumbled against her temple, a smile twisting on his face. "You don't know how I want that for us, Anne-girl."

She pulled away to gaze at him candidly. "You truly think I don't know, Gil?"

He shook with laughter then, burying his face in her collar with some embarrassment. "I suppose you might have some clue."

Anne lifted his dear face in her hands, her eyes burning with tenderness. "With the way you hold me close at night," she whispered. "The way you speak to me- the way your body feels against mine- and the way your face lights up whenever I come to you."

Gilbert swallowed, forcing a laugh from his suddenly tight throat. "All true," he said lightly. "I- I can't wait. But I _will_ \- and it's not so far."

Anne's face was pensive. "You've honestly decided against medical school."

Gilbert pulled back with a frown. "I already said that. We're not talking about the same thing."

"Oh, I rather think we are," she said calmly, shifting on his lap to study him better. "You're planning to teach."

Having enjoyed the previous subject, Gilbert sighed, resigned to following his wife's train of thought now. "Yes, Anne-girl. I can certainly find a position as a soon-to-be BA."

"I don't doubt that," Anne commented, her cheeks beginning to flush. "I am- just curious about your idea of timing," she said delicately.

"I'll find a job that starts the autumn after we graduate," he said, somewhat impatiently. "We've talked about this."

"Yes, however I was still talking about us making love."

Understanding was like a clap of lightning as Gilbert realised what she was getting at, and he gaped at her. "You- you- mean- you want to know _when_?"

There was a rustle in the trees then, and the two of them jumped back from each other in consternation, only now recognising that anyone could walk by. Anne carefully slipped back into her place on the seat, smoothing her skirts as an older couple emerged from the trees, looking in askance at the guilty-looking couple. Neither lifted their eyes from the hands they both clutched as they walked by, while Gilbert tried to control his frantic heart. When the path was silent again, he turned to face her on the seat, his look piercing. "Are you asking us to choose when we will- we-"

Anne's face was brightly pink, and she steadied her breath. "Not exactly," she murmured. "I was just wondering- if you have really decided- then just what we were waiting for?"

Gilbert caught his breath, and slipped down on his knees before her, looking up into the grey eyes that were trying to evade his own. "For- I- I don't know," he said, confused. "Didn't we- did we say graduation?"

Anne sobered, her face peeping up from under her hat. "Why _did_ we say that we would start properly, back then?" she asked pensievely. "Either our mathematics was wildly wrong-"

"Or deep down we both thought that medical school may not happen," he finished. "Maybe we _both_ knew that."

Anne squeezed his hand in her own, her voice teasing. "I really wasn't ready for us to begin properly then."

" _We_ weren't ready." He smoothed her skirts over her knees, a short sigh leaving him. "I suppose graduation makes sense." He gave her a tired grin, straightening up to kiss her lips. "So it's only a wait of a few months," he murmured, his lips against her temple. "Not years like I imagined."

Anne pulled away, blinking. "You- you mean, you don't think- not right _now_?"

"No, not _now_ , Anne," he said, frowning, albeit a twinkle in his eye. "There's still you to consider in all of this."

"Me? Oh, I'm fine," she mumbled, and he chuckled, shivering at the buzz of the words against his neck. "I was just going to ask for a few minutes to find my nightgown."

He choked with delighted laughter at her candor. "You make it sound so simple."

To his surprise Anne moved until she knelt on the soft ground before him, her shaking hands reaching for his. "Isn't it?"

Gilbert sat back on his heels, searching her face. "You're serious."

She wouldn't meet his eyes for a moment, until his fingers tipped her pointed chin up. "Yes," she murmured. "I know you in every way in the world, Gil- all but one. And I long to make my knowledge complete."

He clutched her hand like he was drowning, his hazel eyes blazing. "But- your schooling-"

"Is nearly done, just like yours."

"Your ambitions- the orphanage-"

"None of that limits us," Anne said stubbornly. "I know what you are saying- that the risk is that I become pregnant right away. That isn't a risk- it's a fulfillment."

He searched her face carefully. "You could become ill," he stated.

Anne huffed. "Gilbert, women run households while they are pregnant, I'm sure that I could still study."

He turned to her, his look fierce. "No, Anne, I mean _really_ sick. The kind where you could be completely incapacitated. My uncle deals with that all the time in his practice. Do you honestly think I would risk you not finishing this degree now?"

There was a pause, and Anne sighed. "No, I suppose you wouldn't," she said slowly. "I have no reason to suspect that it would be like that for us, though. And there is no way of knowing if we would even fall pregnant immediately. For some people, it takes time."

Gilbert's face was chagrined. "Anne, how long were your parents married before there was you?"

To this, she bit her lip, her cheeks coloring. "Oh. Well, they were married just after they turned nineteen." He sat himself down on the grass, his hazel eyes twinkling. "And?"

"And I might have been born before they turned twenty."

Gilbert chuckled, his eyes warm. "They were so young," he said softly. "It's odd to think of us being so much older."

"Speak for yourself," Anne muttered, breaking into a laugh as he grabbed her to tackle her to the grass, his solid weight pinning her easily. When their laughter subsided, she looked up at him, the weight of her words very serious now. "I don't know if my mother was ill with me. I don't know what made them decide to marry so young- but they had each other- and for a short time, they had me." She ran her hand through his tousled curls, watching the sunlight flicker on his face yearningly. "We don't know what is ahead for us anymore than they did," she said, her voice quiet. "I don't want to wait any longer. I- I wanted to wait for your sake- I didn't want to limit you."

"Anne, listen to me- there _are_ no limits anymore," he said fiercely.

His wife's look was tender, and she bit her lip as she waited for him to comprehend his own words. The response was almost immediate, his hazel eyes flaming.

"N-now? Are you telling me _now_?" he asked, his voice almost failing him.

"If- if you _wanted_ -"

His laugh was joyous as he gathered her to him, uncaring of who could be around them. " _Want_! You haven't been paying attention if you think I don't want this, my girl. I've wanted this- wanted _you_ -"

He broke off as Anne rose to her feet and held out her hand to him. "Then you _have_ me."

He was on his feet in a second, so overcome with joy that all he could do was crush her to him, laughing. "You couldn't have told me this a little closer to our bedroom?"

"You started this out here," Anne said lightly as he released her, poising herself for flight. Gilbert's eyebrows narrowed at this.

"Are you planning to make me chase you, Mrs Blythe?" he asked, his voice the hoarse one that made her shiver.

Anne felt her stomach thud at the promise in his tone, and bit her lip, her eyes glittering greenly. "Isn't that what you do?" she threw over her shoulder archly, however before she could move he swooped and caught her up in strong arms.

Her heart was beating as hard as if she had actually run a race, and his face was close to her own. For just a moment their eyes met, serious. "Yes. And I always win." He tried to catch his breath as she placed a slender hand to his cheek, pressing her lips against the other. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

"With everything in me."

* * *

Those that met them on the way home later swore that the Blythes never saw them- several sophomores were insulted, thinking the head of the football team dreadfully rude. A teacher only shook his head, chuckling about the self-centredness of youth. Charlie Sloane found himself roundly ignored, and gaped at the quick way the pair whisked down the ivy path by the boardinghouse, kissing most indecorously by daylight, where anyone could see! The slam of the cottage door across the yard behind the shameless pair made him twitch his curtains shut viciously.

Inside the Mushroom, as Gilbert's hand fumbled at the lock, Anne's were in his hair, their hats lying neglected on the carefully-swept floor. He began to laugh when her feverish attempts at removing his tie were met with little success- and he leaned back against the door, pulling her with him. "I don't think you understand how ties are supposed to work, darling."

She stopped and curled into his arms, chuckling, her breath uneven. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

Gilbert frowned, a slight concern on his face. "Anne, are- are you sure? Is this happening too fast?"

Anne shook her head at him, her face shining with anticipation. "You once told me that you didn't want this to be rushed. Neither do I." She stepped away, her smile at once mischievous. "If you can give me a few minutes, I will attempt to ready myself at a more leisurely pace."

Gilbert sank back against the door and began to laugh, his eyes sliding shut in relief. His heart had risen and sunk mountains in the past minute, something he was quite sure his wife had done on purpose. The cosy, little house was growing dim, and he looked around with a feeling of unreality, loosening his lie properly. He watched the closed door with hunger in his eyes, the weight of the years spent wanting and loving Anne bearing down on him.

 _I'm not ready for this, Gil. I'm not ready to be married-_

How crushed he had been, that night. Aching in body, aching in heart- treading his way to a lonely boardinghouse, expecting that he would lose her.

 _But then I was forced to imagine my life without you._

That moment on the doorstep when he had seen something flicker into life in her eyes- something he now knew he had seen correctly. And soon- soon they would be man and wife, in every sense of the word.

Shaking hands began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat as he heard drawers close in the bedroom, and the quick pattering of feet before the annexe door closed. He caught his bbreath, the headiness of what they were about to experience together almost making him dizzy.

She was in there, preparing for _him_.

* * *

Anne flew around the little bedroom as if on wings, achingly conscious that Gilbert was waiting outside as she straightened the bed, and sprinkled a little rosewater on their pillows. Curtains were pulled, and and hairpins were discarded, all while her pulse thudded almost painfully in exquisite expectation. As shaking hands lit the little lamp and turned it down low, she gazed around at the room they had shared for almost sixteen months- sometimes in laughter, sometimes in tears; but always together, just as they had promised. She moved toward the bureau and caught sight of herself in the crooked mirror above it. Red curls tumbling down, her blouse askew and her cheeks so flushed- and she wondered breathlessly, what would he think of her? Would he be pleased? She opened the lower drawer, the very drawer Gilbert had been teasing her to see for months. At the bottom was the carefully wrapped package that had waited like a seed in the earth for the coming of spring.

Anne carefully shook out the folds of the delicate nightgown, marveling all over again at what she now knew to be real Valenciennes lace on the loose neckline, and the long, filmy sleeves that were like something from her childish daydreams. She got to her stockinged feet, half tempted to simply toss the nightgown and not worry about that trifling detail- and the nightgown _was_ rather trifling, she thought with a quiet chuckle- it scarcely weighed a thing.

As she moved to the little annexe on light feet, she drew in a steadying breath. The man who had waited so patiently for her deserved the wedding night of his dreams; and as she bent down to remove her stockings, she knew that it had arrived. It was time.

* * *

It was only a few minutes, however Gilbert swore he had lived a lifetime until the bedroom door finally opened, a soft glow coming from the room behind Anne. Fingers that had halted at the fourth or fifth button on his waistcoat remained frozen as she came toward him, soft red curls falling down her back. There was a twisted smile on her lips, and she reached for his hands. After a minute of silence, Anne chuckled, her cheeks pink.

" _Breathe_ , dearest."

Hearing his own words from her mouth made him laugh, and new gown or not he snatched her to him, burying his face in the curve of her neck. "Sorry. You're the one thing that has the power to stop me from breathing, sweetheart."

Anne pulled away from his face with a pout that made him chuckle. "Oh. That does rather put a dampener on our wedding night."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll rally." He drew in a shaking breath, noting the slight tremble in her lips. "Are you nervous?" he asked softly.

She chuckled and drew his hands down to where the her robe was tied, stretching up to press her mouth to his. "I think I might burst into flames if you don't touch me soon."

Laughter shook him again, until an unexpected wave of emotion at her faith in him flooded him. He dropped to his knees before her in the dim room, his head pillowed against her soft belly for long minutes in the silence.

Anne's hands were tender as they stroked his curly head, marveling at the way this knight bared his heart to her, time and time again. This was _right_. There were some butterflies inside- however they were borne of excitement, not fear. When he raised his head, she smiled and undid the knot at her waist, letting the satiny robe fall to the floor behind them.

Adoration blazed in Gilbert's eyes as he clutched her waist; the pretty, white muslin doing nothing to hide the light and shade of her figure from his sight. She was exquisite, from the top of her glossy head to her slim shoulders, the gentle curve of her breasts and the dip in her tiny waist. He rose to his feet, running reverent fingers down her curves, and tugged her to him to kiss her, leaving her in no doubt as to the state of his own desire. Her arms went around his neck tightly, and he lifted her from the ground against him, a satisfied smile twisting as Anne shook her long curls out of her face. She pulled away to smile at him cheekily, her face alight with happiness.

"Take me to bed, Gil."


End file.
